Mistress  of  Men 


Mistress  of  Men 

A  Novel 


By 

Flora  Annie   Steel 

AUTHOR  OF  "ON  THE  FACE  OF  THE  WATERS,"  "  MARMADUKE,"  ETC. 


New  York 

Frederick   A.   Stokes  Company 

Publishers 

1917 


PRINTED   IN   GREAT    BRITAIN 


THE  MEMORY  OF  A  GREAT  WOMAN 

WHO    IN    TURNS    WAS 

QUEEN    o'    WOMEN,    LIGHT    OF    THE    HOME, 
LIGHT     OF     THE     WORLD 


PREFACE 

IT  is  impossible  that  the  life  of  Nurjahan  the  Beautiful  should 
r   nain  unwritten. 

Of  reliable  historical  incident  much  is  available,  of  equally 
reliable  tradition  still  more;  the  whole  going  to  make  up  a  life 
marvellous  in  its  romance,  touching  in  its  humanity. 

In  this  sketch  of  it  I  have  adhered  in  all  matters  of  importance 
to  the  evidence  of  contemporaneous  witnesses.  That  I  have  given 
a  different  complexion  to  them  in  many  cases,  I  admit;  but  no 
careful  student  of  character  and  motive  could  avoid  doing  so. 

Briefly,  Nurjahan's  extraordinary  personality  and  power — 
which  even  in  these  days  would  raise  criticism  in  a  woman — 
exposed  her  in  the  seventeenth  century  to  inevitable  traducing. 
Sinister  motives  were  found  for  her  every  action;  above  all, 
personal  ambition  was  held  to  be  her  ruling  motive.  This  as- 
sertion is,  to  my  mind,  pulverized  by  the  undenied  fact  that, 
after  her  husband,  the  Emperor  Jahangir's,  death,  she  voluntarily 
retired  from  all  public  life  and  lived  a  widow  indeed. 

In  like  manner  she  is  credited  with  much  plotting  and  planning, 
of  which — beyond  the  statement  of  her  enemies — no  trace  is  to 
be  found  either  in  her  character  or  her  actions. 

^hus,  her  sudden  abandonment  of  Shahjahan  is  set  down  to 
pusonal  pique  and  greed;  but  it  is  curiously  coincident  with  his 
brother  Khushrau's  sudden  death  when  in  the  former's  custody; 
a  death  suspicious  of  poison  to  many,  even  in  those  days. 

I  have  endeavoured,  therefore,  to  make  Nurjahan's  character 
speak  for  itself;  but  in  no  case  have  I  twisted  actual  events  to 
suit  my  own  estimate  of  it. 

So  much  for  the  historical  part  of  my  task.  As  to  the  fictional 
p  rt,  I  have  done  nothing  save  fill  up  with  trifling  incidents 

.e  gaps  which  history  and  tradition  have  left  between  the 

vii 


viii  PREFACE 

major  occurrences;  and,  of  course,  supply  the  motives  which  to 
me,  the  student,  have  appeared  most  likely.  All  the  characters, 
with  the  exception  of  the  Strangler,  once  lived  and  died,  as  they 
are  said  in  this  book  to  have  lived  and  died.  For  the  rest,  it 
has  been  indeed  a  labour  of  love  to  set  down,  from  personal 
biography  and  almost  without  additions,  a  record  of  the  most 
perfect  passion  ever  shown  by  man  for  woman. 

A  man  of  many  faults,  Jahangir  shows  himself  "  the  Compleat 
Lover."  And  Nurjahan  was  worthy  of  his  love. 

Nothing  more  need  be  said,  except  that  Jahangir's  ruby  cup 
is  still  famous  on  the  lips  of  the  people.  It  is  said  to  have  had 
a  name  engraved  around  the  lip,  whether  Jahangir's  or  Nurjahan's, 
who  can  say  ?  It  was  last  heard  of  in  the  beginning  of  the 

eighteenth  century. 

FLORA  ANNIE  STEEL. 


COURT  o'  HILL, 
TENBURY. 


MISTRESS    OF    MEN 


BOOK   I 

CHAPTER  I 

A  motley  crowd,  hidden  within  a  grave — 
Such  is  a  seed ;  for  in  it  crowd  and  crave 
A  million  claims  to  life  !     Ah  !  who  decides 
If  it  grow  fig  or  thistle?     Fool  or  knave?" 

THE  sobbing  cry  of  a  new-born  child  rose  suddenly  on  the  still 
night.  Far  away  over  the  grey,  undulating  sandhills  of  -the 
desert  a  lighter  streak  on  the  horizon  showed  that  the  dawn  was 
nigh ;  but  here,  beside  the  rude  screen  formed  of  a  woman's  veil 
that  was  drawn  between  a  woman's  travail  and  man's  sleep  all 
was  dark,  save  for  the  faint  glimmer  of  an  oil  cresset  that  filtered 
weakly  through  the  stretched  muslin. 

The  man,  dozing  beside  the  dying  embers  of  a  watch-fire,  with 
a  sleeping  child  in  his  arms,  stirred  and  yawned.  Then  came 
his  voice  eagerly  : 

"  What  is't,  Dilaram — boy  or  girl?" 

'  The  Prophet's  wisdom  be  thine,"  was  the  quick  masterful 
retort.  "  Will  the  man  not  let  a  body  have  time  to  look  around?" 
And  after  a  second's  pause  the  verdict  was  given. 

"  A  girl,  master,  only  a  girl." 

The  echo  of  that  fiat  may  have  roused  the  listening  worlds  t® 
rejoice  in  yet  another  life ;  but  in  this  particular  one  of  stress  and 
starvation  it  only  brought  dull,  acquiescent  silence. 

Only  a  girl  !  There  was  no  more  to  be  said.  The  new-made 
father  looked  up  into  the  fading  stars  above  his  head,  then  at  the 
dim  glow  here  and  there  on  the  wide  plain  which  told  where  the 
watch-fires  of  night  were  turning  to  dust  and  ashes,  and  sighed 
faintly. 


2  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

After  a  pause,  the  stretched  muslin  of  the  screen  parted,  and 
by  the  light  of  the  cresset  behind,  the  figure  of  a  stalwart,  full- 
breasted  woman  showed,  carrying  something  huddled  in  her 
veil. 

"  A  lusty  child,  master,"  she  remarked  approvingly.  "  Never 
did  I  handle  a  better;  but  of  no  use  in  God's  world,  when  the 
coffers  hold  not  one  farthing  for  a  marriage  portion. ' ' 

She  held  out  her  burdened  veil  for  him  to  see ;  but  he  did  not 
look.  His  eyes  fixed  themselves  hungrily  on  the  little  cheek  that 
cuddled  closely  to  his  breast.  It  was  his  son's.  That  mattered ; 
the  other  did  not. 

"  And  the  mother?"  he  asked  after  a  pause.  "  How  goes  the 
Bibi?  Is  all  well?" 

Dilaram  squatted  down  beside  the  embers  and  became  gar- 
rulous. 

"  Well?"  she  echoed,  "  what  else  would  she  be  with  this  slave 
as  midwife  to  stand  between  her  and  unnecessary  anguish  ?  Lo  ! 
as  I  told  my  lord  at  the  beginning,  a  full  dose  of  the  Dream- 
compeller  hath  done  no  harm,  but  contrariwise  good.  Bibi 
Azizan  sleeps  knowing  not  she  is  accursed  with  a  girl — yet  'tis  a 
lusty  one — that  will  I  swear." 

Despite  her  praise,  even  she  did  not  look  at  what  lay  in  her 
veil,  so  none  can  say  if  the  child's  eyes  were  wide  awake,  open, 
ready  to  take  in  the  light  of  its  new  life,  or  whether  they  were 
closed  as  they  had  been  in  the  darkness  of  the  old. 

Either  way  it  made  no  sound.  And  those  two  by  the  ashes  of 
the  fire  were  silent  also.  The  slow  light  of  dawn  was  coming 
faster  now,  and  suddenly  the  man  sighed.  The  woman  rose  on 
the  instant  and  stood  beside  him,  almost  menacing,  masterful. 

"  The  die  is  cast,  meean  fee,"  she  said,  "  and  'tis  kindest  in 
the  end.  Lo  !  a  pellet  of  the  Dream-Compeller  concealed  in 
sugar  on  the  tongue,  and  this  transitory  world  remains  not ;  the 
bud  blossoms  in  Paradise."  She  paused  and  her  tone  became 
harder.  "  Sure,  at  best  a  woman's  life  is  but  poor  fare  !  How 
we  stomach  it  God  knows  !  For  my  own  part  I  had  as  lief  that 
my  parents  had  stepped  in  between  me  and  it  at  the  beginning. 
And,  see  you,  master,  'tis  not  as  if  Bibi  Azizan  were  a  cow,  as 
tsre  folk  are,  to  give  milk  on  parched  grain  !  She  hath  not 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  3 

enough  food  for  herself  when  the  two  strapping  sons  have  done 
yelling  for  it,  let  alone  for  a  useless  girl — though  by  my  faith 
she  is  a  lusty  one — and  a  pretty  too " 

"  Peace,  fool  !"  interrupted  the  man  hastily;  perhaps  he  did 
not  care  to  hear  more  of  the  doomed  infant.  "  Sure,  wisdom 
and  plain  figures  need  not  to  be  made  plainer  by  an  ass's  bray. 
The  die,  I  tell  you,  hath  been  cast ;  another  useless  mouth  would 
be  unfair  to  these  my  sons" — he  glanced  down  with  almost 
passionate  tenderness  at  the  cuddling  cheek  upon  his  breast, 
and  the  swathed  outline  of  another  sleeping  child  at  his  feet. 
' '  And  cruel  to  the  babe  herself — what  hath  life  to  offer  to  such 
as  she?" 

There  was  no  answer  to  his  question;  it  carried  decision 
with  it. 

And  now  the  grey  horizon  line  beyond  the  sand-waves  was 
changing  to  primrose,  and  with  the  coming  of  another  day  the 
world  was  beginning  to  stir.  A  flight  of  desert  birds  winged 
wedge-shaped  into  the  primrose.  Then  a  yawning  man  un- 
happed  himself  from  his  blanket,  still  half  asleep,  and  stumbled 
to  the  wide  circle  of  squatting  camels  which  centred  the  camp. 
Another  and  another  followed  suit,  and  thereinafter  rose  strange 
bubblings  and  groanings  that  awakened  even  the  most  dreamful 
of  sleepers.  All  but  Bibi  Azizan.  Behind  the  veil-screen  she 
slept  in  a  sort  of  low  litter,  and  by-and-by,  when  the  two  boys 
had  been  tucked  away,  as  ever,  at  her  feet,  and  the  last  camels 
of  the  great  caravan  from  Kabul  to  Hindustan  had  swayed 
noiselessly  adown  the  trackless,  sandy,  eastward  desert, 
Ghiyass-ud-din,  the  new-made  father,  and  Dilaram,  the  stal- 
wart nurse,  each  shouldered  one  end  of  the  cross  pole  and  began 
to  sway  as  noiselessly  after  them.  But  not  before  the  latter 
had  made  her  arrangements.  Slipping  behind  some  sparse  caper 
bushes,  she  scraped  a  shallow  hole  with  her  hand  in  the  sand, 
that  was  already  warming  under  the  first  rays  of  the  rising  sun, 
laid  something  down  in  the  hollow,  and  partially  covered  it  with 
sand  as  with  a  blanket,  since  it  might  as  well  be  comfortable 
till  the  end. 

Was  it  something,  or  was  it  nothing,  that  useless,  drugged 
girl  baby  who  might  in  the  years  to  come  have  given  pleasure  to 


4  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

some  godly  man,  but  who  was  now,  in  this  time  of  stress,  better 
out  of  the  way? 

Dilaram  scarcely  asked  herself  the  question,  and  yet  there 
was  something  in  the  tiny  puckered  face  appearing  like  a  mask 
out  of  the  soft  sand  which  made  her  pause  for  a  second  and 
mutter  under  her  breath  : 

' '  A  lusty  one  indeed  !  Had  the  good  God  but  given  the 
soul-bit  a  male  body-bit,  it  might  have  been  a  fine  fighting 
man." 

So  she  returned  to  her  task  of  helping  the  sick  mother,  the 
very  possibility  of  anything  feminine  growing  up  to  be  any- 
thing fine  not  occurring  to  her. 

Small  wonder,  indeed,  when  even  now,  after  four  centuries 
of  wisdom  and  progress,  few  thoughts  of  future  fame  or  of  a 
future  career  come  to  the  parents  of  a  female  child.  In  that 
first  glance  a  father  gives  his  infant  son,  what  wonders  does  he 
not  see  hidden  in  the  cradle  !  Field  Marshal's  batons,  titles, 
distinctions,  riches — all  these.  But  the  face  of  a  little  daughter 
shows  only  the  lines  of  beauty — the  beauty  which  shall  give 
pleasure  to  a  man  ! 

Ghiyass-ud-din,  however,  had  carefully  not  looked  in  his 
daughter's  face ;  perhaps  he  feared  the  sight  of  it  might  turn 
him  from  what  he  conceived  to  be  his  duty ;  for  his  heart  was 
not  so  hard  as  that  of  Bibi  Azizan,  his  wife,  who  at  the  moment 
was  comfortably  slipping  out  of  the  noose  of  parental  responsi- 
bility with  the  aid  of  opium.  But  it  had  all  been  settled  before- 
hand with  infinite  and  painstaking  thought,  as  everything  that 
Ghiyass-ud-din  did  invariably  was;  for  precision  was  with  him 
almost  an  obsession.  Well  born,  well  educated,  he  had  been 
what  nowadays  would  be  called  a  mathematical  professor  in 
Kabul ;  but  he  had  fallen  upon  evil  times,  and  had  finally 
decided  on  trying  his  fortune  in  Hindustan,  the  land  of  untold 
riches.  So,  almost  starving,  he  had  accepted  the  post  of  assis- 
tant invoice-writer  to  this  caravan,  and  was  going  through  the 
experience  methodically ;  for  he  had  added  up  all  advantages, 
subtracted  the  disadvantages,  and  divided  out  all  his  duties 
conscientiously.  Even  in  this  problem  of  life  and  death,  though 
he  regretted  the  conclusion  to  which  the  factors  forced  him,  he 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  5 

did  not  dream  of  disputing  its  validity,  but,  tall,  gaunt,  bur- 
dened with  a  great  load  of  responsibility,  plodded  on  his  way 
after  the  fast  disappearing  caravan,  leaving  the  new  life  to 
death. 

Since  that  first  birth-cry  the  child  had  not  uttered  a  sound. 
The  pinch  of  sugar  on  its  tongue,  hiding  the  bitterness  of  opium, 
had  brought  content  until  the  drug  had  brought  unconsciousness. 

So,  in  truth,  the  babe  had  scarce  lived  at  all,  and  yet,  as  with 
puckered-up  little  face  upturned  to  the  sky  it  lay  placid,  it  still 
held  the  possibility  of  taking  to  itself  everything  in  the  Great 
Storehouse  of  Fate. 

The  sun  climbed  into  the  brazen  sky,  the  hills  shimmered  and 
grew  opalescent  in  the  noonday  glare ;  and  still  the  child  slept 
on.  But  had  Nurse  Dilaram  been  there  to  watch  the  rise  and 
fall  of  the  sand  above  its  breast,  she  would  have  marvelled ; 
for  the  pellet  of  the  D ream-compel ler  she  had  given  should  ere 
this  have  stilled  the  breath  for  ever.  Instead,  it  came  quicker, 
less  evenly. 

A  wild  honey-bee  rifling  the  coral  buds  of  the  caper  thorns — 
whose  fine  fret  of  shadow  tempered  the  full  fierceness  of  the 
sun — hovered  over  the  wet  open  mouth  as  if  doubtful  if  it  were 
not  a  new  kind  of  flower,  then  hummed  away  tunefully  to  more 
familiar  blossoms.  A  pair  of  desert  birds  hopped  round  the 
little  upturned  face,  decided  it  was  not  fit  to  eat,  and  fluttered 
away. 

Finally,  when  the  fretwork  of  the  caper  shadows  began  to 
blur  themselves,  a  great  black  cobra  crept  out  of  its  hole  hard 
by,  and  finding  the  sand  above  the  child's  breast  warmer  than 
the  rest,  coiled  itself  there  to  sleep. 

And  still  the  child  slept  on,  though  the  Dream-compeller  was 
losing  its  hold  on  the  little  life,  which  must  wake  to  face  Death. 

Quaint,  indeed,  to  think  of  the  little  soul-bit,  in  its  little 
woman-body-bit,  alone  in  the  desert  with  all  things  hanging  in 
the  Balance  of  Fate.  Crowns,  Kingdoms,  Power  almost  un- 
limited, Influence  unrivalled  ! 

The  moon  at  its  full  rose  at  last,  turning  the  lingering  Indian 
day  to  night  rapidly,  and  the  sand-waves  passed  from  opales- 
cence  to  pearl  once  more;  so  faded  sombrely  to  shadow. 


6  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Hark!  what  was  that?  Scarcely  a  sound.  More  an  air- 
rhythm;  the  faintest  fall  of  softest  foot  upon  soft  sand. 

So  over  the  darkening  distance  a  monstrous  swaying  figure 
showed  ghostly ;  it  was  the  figure  of  a  swift  riding  camel.  And 
it  was  ridden  by  a  man  in  a  hurry ;  for  Zaman  Shah,  Chief 
Constable  and  Conveyer  of  Caravans,  who  had  remained  behind 
at  the  last  camping-place  in  order  to  negotiate  the  transport 
dues  payable  to  insure  safe  conduct  from  the  tribesmen,  was 
anxious  to  overtake  his  charge.  For  his  was  a  responsible  task, 
though  none  was  more  fitted  for  it  than  he,  Yusufzai  Pathan 
by  birth,  who  knew  all  the  ins  and  outs  of  frontier  life.  A 
medium-sized,  merry  man  who  could  quote  Hafiz  by  the  yard, 
and  was  the  best  swordsman  that  side  Delhi. 

What  was  it  that  made  him  suddenly  draw  rein,  slip  from 
his  high-peaked  saddle,  and  stand  peering  down  at  his  very 
feet?  Possibly  it  was  the  big  black  cobra  which  had  slidden 
from  his  camel's  tread.  Anyhow,  he  stood  staring  astonished 
at  an  age-long,  puckered  little  face,  that  stared  back  at  him 
with  large  purblind  eyes ;  for  the  useless  girl  had  slipped  the 
Noose  of  Death  and  taken  the  Path  of  Life. 

Yet  still  there  was  no  sound,  and  Zaman  Shah — whose  know- 
ledge of  babies,  if  superficial,  was  wide,  seeing  that  he  had  a 
wife  and  family  at  most  of  the  big  halting-places  along  the 
route — realized  that  he  had  seldom  seen  a  silent  baby  before; 
except  once  when  a  never-to-be-forgotten  youthful  romance  had 
ended  for  ever  as  he  stood  looking  down  on  a  dead  mother 
with  his  dead  son  on  her  breast. 

But  this  one — he  paused  mechanically  to  lift  it  from  its  sand 
cradle — looked  alive  enough  to  scream  like  the  devil  if  it  chose • 

It  did.  He  nearly  dropped  the  babe  in  surprise,  so  sudden, 
so  forceful,  was  its  howl  of  hunger. 

For  there  was  no  mistaking  it ;  loud,  full,  prolonged,  the  pro- 
test was  for  food,  immediate,  imperative.  But  how  to  compass 
satisfaction,  here  in  the  wilderness?  Parched  grain,  the  staple 
provant  of  the  Eastern  traveller,  was  distinctly  unsuitable.  There 
was  the  she-camel  he  was  riding — her  calf,  which  had  gone  on 
ahead,  was  almost  weaned,  but  she  might  have  something  to 
appease  the  yell. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  7 

It  was  worth  a  trial,  anyhow;  so,  holding  the  child  con- 
veniently, he  attempted  to  milk  into  its  open  mouth.  This,  how- 
ever, only  made  it  yell  the  louder,  and  he  was  at  his  wits'  end 
when  by  chance  the  teat  touched  the  clamouring  lips.  In  an 
instant  they  had  closed  on  it  like  a  vice,  and  remained  glued  to 
it,  sucking  contentedly. 

He  chuckled  to  himself  as  he  stood  laboriously  holding  ths 
child,  whose  little  arms  struggled  and  beat  aimlessly  at  the 
animal,  as  they  would  have  at  a  human  mother. 

A  strange  group,  indeed,  in  the  rising  moonlight,  that  sent  a 
hard  yet  blurred  shadow  of  mingled  man  and  beast  on  to  the 
soft  shifting  sand. 

"  By  Allah  !"  murmured  Zaman  Shah,  when  at  long  last  the 
satisfied  lips  loosed  hold.  "  She  is  better  than  most  of  her  sex  f 
She  knows  what  she  wants,  and  gives  no  trouble  when  she  gets 
it.  I  will  call  her  Queen  o'  Women." 

It  was  the  first  intimation  he  had  given  to  himself  that  he 
meant  to  take  the  gift  the  gods  had  sent  him,  but  it  was  final. 
He  was  used,  in  his  profession  of  Conveyer  of  Caravans,  to  the 
rapid  making  of  plans,  to  decisive  decisions  and  sudden  actions- 
Then  family  ties  sat  light  upon  him,  and  some  one  of  the  many 
women  dependent  on  him  would  surely  mother  the  foundling; 
if  not,  he  could  easily  find  someone  who  would ;  for  Zaman  Shah 
was  a  good-looking  fellow  in  the  prime  of  life. 

So  lightly,  almost  without  thought,  he  tucked  the  now  sleeping 
baby  away  in  the  capacious  wadded  coat  girt  about  the  waist 
with  a  twined  girdle  which  to  the  Afghan  is  general  hold-all, 
remounted,  and  rode  on  at  full  speed. 

Within  five  minutes  he  had  forgotten  all  about  his  burden  and 
was  back  in  some  rather  troublous  thoughts  which  needed  sifting  ; 
for  his  post  of  Chief  Conveyer  of  Caravans  was  not  without 
responsibilities.  To  begin  with,  the  slow,  undulating  file  of 
camels  which,  tied  nose  to  tail,  looked  sideways  like  some  mon- 
strous caterpillar  crawling  on  its  lengthy  way,  often  carried 
untold  wealth.  True,  the  major  part  of  the  packs  contained 
nothing  more  valuable  than  dried  apricots  and  plums,  pistachio 
nuts,  white  grapes  packed  in  little  round  boxes,  and  such  like, 
with  here  and  there  a  tiny  packet  of  asafcetida  to  give  flavour  to 


8  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

the  whole  and  bestow  on  the  caravan  an  atmosphere  to  carry 
along  with  it. 

But  others  held  carpets  and  rich  stuffs,  while  a  few  had 
precious  stones — turquoise,  lapis  lazuli,  and  jade.  Still  more 
valuable  things  were  to  be  found,  but  these  were  generally  con- 
cealed on  the  persons  of  the  travellers  who  availed  themselves  of 
armed  escort,  so  that  the  Conveyer  did  not  himself  know  what 
treasures  he  was  guarding. 

But  whenever  he  found  unusual  difficulty  in  settling  trans- 
port dues  with  the  tribesmen,  he  had  a  shrewd  guess  that  they 
had  wind  of  something  out  of  the  common.  And  never  had 
he  met  with  more  extortion  than  on  the  present  trip.  His  face 
clouded,  remembering  the  rupees  extracted  from  him  that  very 
morning  after  vain  protest  and  waste  of  time.  But,  praise  be 
to  Allah  !  the  tyranny  was  about  overpast.  Two  more  marches 
would  see  them  over  the  border,  and  the  very  next  day  he  would 
Be  quit  of  that  naked,  drunken  pig  of  a  Hindu  saint,  who,  he 
verily  believed,  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  trouble.  Bad 
eess  to  the  banker  at  Kabul  who  had  persuaded  him  to  convoy 
the  idolatrous  anatomy — as  if  the  fact  that  you  owed  a  man  a 
few  paltry  hundreds  was  any  excuse  for  his  foisting  a  ver- 
minous savage  on  good  company  !  Zaman  Shah  spat  over  his 
thoughts,  then  laughed  sardonically  at  the  reflection  that  jogi-jee 
could  not  have  much  about  him,  since  his  only  clothing  was  a 
bit  of  twine  and  a  rag  round  his  waist.  But  perhaps  he  had 
swallowed  something?  Not  very  large,  anyhow,  as  you  could 
see  every  bone  and  sinew  in  his  skeleton  !  Yes,  it  would  be 
God's  peace  when  he  was  safely  handed  over  to  the  shrine  ! 

So  from  that  Zaman  Shah's  errant  thoughts  flew  to  other 
things,  while  the  swift  rewdri  camel,  with  its  long  swinging  trot 
that  had  a  bump  in  the  middle,  forged  over  the  sandhills  at 
fifteen  miles  an  hour;  a  very  different  pace  from  that  of  the 
baggage  beasts,  its  brothers. 

It  did  not  take  more  than  an  hour  and  a  half  to  reach  the 
outskirts  of  the  little  oasis,  preluding  a  more  rapid  and  rocky 
descent,  where  the  caravan  was  encamped  for  the  night,  and 
where  Zaman  Shah  expected  to  find  all  asleep  and  snoring  after 
the  dreary,  weary,  slow  march  of  the  day.  He  was,  however, 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  9 

disappointed.  From  afar  he  could  see  watch-fires  blazing  and 
hear  drums  beating,  while  as  he  passed  on  a  couple  of  timid 
guards,  armed  with  pikes,  challenged  him  fearfully. 

With  an  oath  he  gave  the  password,  and,  galloping  furiously 
to  his  tent,  flung  himself  from  his  camel  and  demanded  imperi- 
ously what  was  the  matter. 

"  The  Hindu  saint,  my  lord,  hath  had  a  dream.  He  swears 
if  any  sleep  he  will  be  robbed  and  murdered,"  bleated  a  head 
accountant,  hovering  between  importance  and  fear.  "  And, 
seeing  that  he  is  a  holy  man ' ' 

Zaman  Shah  nearly  burst  with  rage.  "Go  to  Gehennum  ! 
Hindu  thyself,  fool  !"  he  stormed.  "  Is  peace  for  ever  to  be 
disturbed  by  a  drunkard's  dreams?  Bring  the  foul  beast  hither, 
slaves,  and  I  will  cook  his  pulse  for  him. ' ' 

A  minute  later  the  two  men  stood  glaring  at  each  other,  abso- 
lutely different  and  apart,  yet  each  instinct  with  overweening 
pride  and  arrogance.  Of  the  two,  the  jogi  had  the  better  share, 
for  one  look  at  the  dull  blaze  of  his  eyes  showed  that  he  was 
heavily  drugged  with  bhang;  and  of  all  known  substances  in 
the  world,  Indian  hemp  is  the  one  that  makes  a  man  feel  most 
supreme,  most  god-like.  So,  a  miserable,  ash-smeared  anatomy, 
his  wild  sun-bleached  hair  matted  into  a  sort  of  crown  upon  his 
head,  he  stood  grey  and  ghostlike  in  the  mingled  glare  of  torch 
and  moon,  giving  back  with  interest  the  Mahomedan's  purely 
physical  contempt  by  a  spiritual  disdain  beyond  words.  And 
yet  there  were  traces  of  a  furtive  fear,  perhaps  more  of  a  furtive 
watchfulness,  in  his  dull,  restless  eyes  and  in  the  quickness  with 
which  he  followed  every  movement  of  the  crowd  that  pressed 
behind  him.  A  fear,  a  watchfulness  of  something  that  was 
not,  but  might  be. 

"So!  Saint!"  jeered  Zaman,  "  thou  hast  been  dreaming 
again.  I  will  have  no  drunken  dreams — ay,  or  dreamers 
either — in  my  camp.  So  tell  these  split-eared  folk  something 
more  peaceful,  or,  by  the  Prophet,  saint  or  sinner,  out  you  go  !" 

The  saint  gave  a  scornful  laugh. 

"Thou  darest  not,  cow-killer!  Thou  art  bound  by  thine 
office  to  shelter  me  till  I  reach  the  shrine." 

Zaman  Shah's  face  grew  black  with  passion;  in  an  instant 


io  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

his  resolve  was  taken,  heedless  of  his  own  comfort  or  discom- 
fort, heedless  of  all  saj/e  immediate  reprisal. 

"So  be  it,  Saint-fee,"  he  snarled;  "then  I  see  thee  safe 
there — if  God  wills — this  very  night.  'Tis  a  matter  of  fifteen 
miles,  not  more,  twelve  by  the  gorge  path.  That  ends  it. 
Dost  hear?" 

For  an  instant  the  man  looked  startled,  apprehensive;  then 
with  curious  dignity  he  salaamed. 

"  So  hath  the  Mighty  ordained,"  he  said.  "  His  disciple  is 
ready." 

Zaman  gave  a  scornful  laugh.  "  Ay  !  Ready  enough,  see- 
ing thine  only  baggage  is  a  bag  of  bones  and  some  vermin.  Thus 
we  can  start  without  delay.  Quick  !  my  other  camel,  and  five 
troopers — thou  shalt  have  decent  escort,  saint ! — And  bring  me 
a  drink  of  sherbet — I  sup  not  till  I  be  quit,  with  a  thankful 
heart,  of  all  idolaters." 

There  was  ever  haste  in  Zaman  Shah's  dispositions ;  but  this 
one  was  more  than  usually  rapid,  and  the  listening  crowd  had 
hardly  realized  its  sequence  before  the  little  cavalcade,  with 
the  saint  perched  up  behind  the  last  trooper,  had  started.  The 
moon,  shining  bright,  showed  him  like  a  skeleton  against  the 
latter's  burly  form,  as,  coalescing  into  a  serried  group,  the 
party  disappeared  at  full  speed  adown  the  rocky  decline. 

The  watching  crowd  began  to  disperse,  yawning  sleepily. 

"  By  Allah  !"  murmured  one.  "  The  Conveyer  said  truth. 
The  saint  had  bewitched  the  camp.  Now  he  is  gone,  I  feel  that 
I  can  sleep  in  peace." 

"  And  I  also,"  yawned  another. 

But  one  man  looked  at  another  man,  and  both  were  alert  to 
the  uttermost.  They  were  both  slim,  small,  dark- featured,  and 
after  an  instant's  colloquy  they  slipped  past  the  camp  fires  and 
were  no  more  seen. 


CHAPTER  II 

"  Ring  round  with  scent  the  circle  where  thy  lips 
Shall  touch  the  Bowl  of  Life  !     If  the  wine  drips 
Untouched  into  the  Cup  of  Death — what  then  ? 
Since  Life  dies  not,  it  matters  not  who  sips." 

ZAMAN  SHAH  rode  at  the  head  of  the  escort  fuming  with  rage, 
and  yet  exultant. 

By  his  quick  decision  to  take  a  short  cut,  and  thus,  within  the 
limits  of  a  short,  swift,  but  difficult  camel  ride,  deposit  the 
verminous  idolater  at  the  shrine  which  would  otherwise  have 
been  reached  in  two  days'  tedious  marching,  he  had  put  an  end, 
so  he  told  himself,  to  an  intolerable  state  of  affairs.  Never 
had  he  had  so  troublesome  a  caravan  to  convoy.  And  it  was 
not  all  dreams  on  the  jogi's  part;  twice,  at  least,  an  attempt 
had  been  made  on  the  camp  at  night ;  and,  from  his  long  experi- 
ence of  travellers,  he  suspicioned  more  than  one  of  the  Hindus 
of  his  party  as  being  in  disguise. 

However,  the  whole  affair  was  ended  now,  with  no  worse 
result  than  keeping  him  four  hours  without  his  supper ;  for  it 
would  not  take  more  than  that  to  deposit  Saint -jee  and  get  back. 
If  he  had  had  horses  instead  of  camels,  not  so  long ;  for  the 
hill-ponies  could  easily  have  tackled  a  further  short  cut  at  the 
beginning,  which  was  impassable  for  the  latter 's  soft  pads. 

So  he  led  the  way  in  the  moonlight  for  some  three  miles  down 
the  rocky  ravine,  till  they  came  upon  a  few  sparse  pine-trees, 
and  finally  entered  the  densely  wooded  valley  leading  to  the 
lower  levels.  Here  a  tinkle  of  water  made  itself  heard  below 
them,  as,  fearful  of  a  slip  among  the  thick  carpeting  of  pine- 
needles,  they  went  slowly  along  the  verge  of  precipitous  rocks. 
A  warm  aromatic  air  rose  from  the  camels'  footsteps,  and  the 
burly  trooper  bade  Sa.mt-jee  hold  fast  if  he  did  not  want  to 
save  further  trouble  by  gaining  Swarga  and  not  the  shrine  by 
being  precipitated  to  the  rocks  below. 


12  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

"  Jest  not  with  holy  things,  outcast  !"  replied  the  jogi. 
"  Mai  Durga  stays  not  her  hand  at  the  m'lechchas." 

"  Halt  !"  came  an  imperious  voice  from  ahead.  It  was 
darker  here,  in  the  shadow  of  the  pines ;  but  it  was  light  enough 
for  Zaman  Shah  to  see  that  something  lay  ahead  which  caused 
him  to  fling  himself  from  his  saddle  with  an  oath  of  vexation. 
The  path  had  passed  from  the  left  to  the  right  bank  of  the 
stream  by  a  bridge  purposely  placed  at  the  narrowest  part  of 
the  gorge;  or  rather,  it  should  have  passed,  for  the  centre  of 
the  three  tree-trunks  of  which  the  rough  roadway  had  been  made 
was  no  longer  there.  Peering  over  the  edge,  Zaman  Shah  could 
see  it  lying  askew,  wedged  into  the  rocks  half-way  down. 
Doubtless,  having  grown  rotten,  it  had  fallen;  such  things  did 
happen,  especially  on  little  used  pathways.  Still  it  was  a  check, 
and  that  to  Zaman  Shah's  temper  was  intolerable.  There  was, 
however,  but  one  thing  to  be  done.  A  halt  must  be  called,  half 
the  troopers  must  swarm  across  the  remaining  trunks,  cut 
down  a  suitable  pine  to  fell  as  near  to  place  as  possible, 
while  the  remaining  men  guided  it  by  ropes.  It  was  an 
operation  which  had  constantly  to  be  done  on  hill  roads, 
and  it  need  only  take  half  an  hour;  but  it  was  half  an  hour 
lost. 

"Leave  the  camels,  my  brothers,  in  charge  of  Saint-;V<r,"  he 
ordered  sharply;  "his  holiness  is  sufficient  for  that,  I  warrant. 
There  is  room  round  the  rock  yonder  for  the  beasts  to  squat,  so 
the  six  of  us  can  set  to  work."  As  he  spoke  he  began  to  throw 
off  his  coat.  "God  and  His  Prophet  !"  he  continued,  aghast, 
"I  had  forgot  the  child!" 

The  troopers,  aghast,  also,  stared  helplessly  at  the  little  naked 
new-born  baby. 

So  for  an  instant  there  was  silence;  then  the  cool  night  air 
began  to  assail  the  little  limbs  so  lately  warm  happed  in  fur. 
They  stretched,  curled,  the  mouth  opened 

"Wrap  it  up,  master!"  cried  one  trooper  hastily;  "it  is 
going  to  cry,  and  the  devil  himself  can't  stop  them  if  they 
once  begin  !  Only  a  woman  can  do  it." 

But  it  was  too  late.  Through  the  still,  aromatic  night  rose 
pitiful  howling. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  13 

"  I  have  milk  in  my  bottle,"  said  a  bearded  man  fearfully; 
"  belike  it  is  hungry  !" 

Zaman  Shah  smiled  a  grim  smile.  "  And  if  it  be  so,  bro- 
ther," he  remarked,  "  naught  else  but  food  will  content  it — 
'tis  the  veriest  shaitan  for  wilfulness."  Then  he  turned  restive. 
Further  delay  meant  longer  supperless  time  for  himself,  and 
that  was  not  to  be  tolerated.  "  Here  !"  he  cried,  thrusting  the 
child,  fur  coat  and  all,  into  the  unwilling  jogi's  arms — for  the 
saint,  astounded  like  the  others,  had  crowded  round  to  look — 
"there  is  that  to  occupy  thy  charity!  Give  him  thy  milk- 
bottle,  Ahmed,  and  let  him  do  nurse  while  better  men  work." 

Five  minutes  afterwards  the  sound  of  an  axe  was  ringing 
through  the  rocks,  while  leaning  against  one  of  the  squatting 
camels,  jogi-jee  was  attempting  to  still  the  infant's  cries. 

"  He  hath  not  the  knack  of  the  job,"  gravely  commented  the 
bearded  trooper  who  had  shown  second-hand  knowledge  of 
nursing  lore,  as  hideous  howls  still  rose  upon  the  night  air; 
"you  should  jigger  the  babe  up  and  down  till  its  head 
whirls " 

"  Be  not  too  hard  on  him,  friend,"  jeered  a  younger  one. 
"Being  celibate,  what  knows  he  of  family  matters?" 

The  sally  brought  a  roar  of  laughter;  for  the  lax  morality  of 
the  wandering  ascetic  is  a  byword  in  India. 

In  truth,  his  saintship  had  a  difficult  task.  The  lip  of  the 
leathern  milk-bottle  was  wide,  the  infant's  mouth  was  small ; 
the  jogi's  hand  was  unsteady,  owing  to  bhang.  So  his  attempt 
at  feeding  it  ended  in  renewed  roars  as  the  cold  fluid  dashed 
over  eyes  and  nose. 

For  a  time  he  continued  his  effort  mechanically ;  then  interest 
appeared  to  wake  in  him.  He  laid  the  child  down  for  a  second 
and  stole  round  the  projecting  rock  to  make  sure  he  was  unob- 
served by  the  bridge-makers.  Having  satisfied  himself  of  that, 
he  removed  something  that  was  hidden  in  the  coils  of  matted 
hair  that,  after  the  manner  of  such  ascetics,  formed  a  sort  of 
crown  upon  his  head. 

Seen  in  the  moonlight  it  showed  a  tiny  cup  apparently  of 
lacquered  wood  such  as  any  Indian  bazaar  produces  by  the 
million  as  a  receptable  for  medicaments,  or  as  a  child's  toy. 


i4  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

It  was,  however,  of  somewhat  unusual  shape,  being  like  a  small 
dumpy  dice-box,  both  ends  equal,  with  but  a  slight  attenuation 
in  the  middle. 

This  the  jogi  filled  with  milk,  then  held  it  to  the  child's  lips. 
They  seized  like  a  vice  on  the  rim,  the  cries  ceased,  and  all  was 
peace. 

Once,  twice,  thrice,  the  cup  was  filled,  a  certain  satisfaction 
showing  on  the  faces  of  both  nurse  and  nursling,  and  the  former 
was  meditating  whether  the  infant  could  contain  a  fourth  jorum 
when  he  fell  forward  with  one  awful  gasp.  The  little  cup  flew 
from  his  hand,  buried  itself  in  the  folds  of  the  fur  coat,  which 
in  one  last  convulsive  struggle  to  rise,  he  ruckled  so  that  it  hid 
the  child's  face. 

"  Quick  !"  said  a  low  guttural  voice,  "  I  hear  steps  !  Quick  ! 
Search,  brothers  !" 

Not  more  than  a  minute  later  Zaman  Shah,  followed  by  a 
trooper,  turned  the  protecting  rock. 

"Allah  roast  the  infidel  !"  muttered  the  Conveyer  of  Cara- 
vans. "  Why  did  he  not  answer  when  I  called?  But  he  hath 
appeased  the  churail  of  a  child.  Let  that  stand  to  his  credit." 

Then  he  gave  an  exclamation,  for  in  the  very  centre  of  the 
kneeling  camels  showed  a  ghastly,  contorted,  naked  figure,  its 
faced  turned  to  mother  earth,  the  hilt  of  a  dagger  showing  just 
under  the  left  shoulder  blade.  Given  a  long  enough  weapon, 
it  must  have  pierced  the  heart. 

"  That  is  no  bungler's  work,"  said  Zaman  Shah,  "  but  how? 
And  wherefore?" 

"  It  is  thieves'  work,  master,"  replied  the  trooper,  bending  to 
examine  more  closely.  "See — they  judged  it  concealed  in  his 
hair;  it  is  all  undone." 

And  indeed,  the  whole  superstructure  of  tow,  wool,  rags  and 
indescribable  filth  which  had  gone  to  make  up  the  jogi's  crown 
or  turban  of  plaited  hair  lay  in  confusion,  each  tangled  mass 
torn  to  bits  in  hurried  search. 

The  Conveyer  of  Caravans  looked  down  thoughtfully  at  the 
body.  "  Thou'rt  right,  Ahmed;  and  those  who  did  the  deed 
have  gained  what  they  sought.  What  was't,  think  you?  Some 
jewel,  doubtless,  since  even  yonder  wig  would  not  carry  gold 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  15 

enough  to  tempt  such  attack.  Ay,  a  jewel — some  idol's  eye 
likely." 

Both  he  and  the  trooper  spat  thoughtfully.  It  was  as  well 
to  prevent  the  poison  of  such  infamy  from  defiling  their  orthodox 
throats. 

Suddenly  the  Conveyer  of  Caravans  spoke,  and  he  spoke  hur- 
riedly. "  See  you,  brother,  this  is  best  not  known  save  to  those 
to  whom  Providence  hath  imparted  the  secret !  Lend  me  a 
hand.  The  gorge  will  hide  the  man,  be  he  saint  or  sinner." 

Without  one  word  the  hand  was  lent.  There  was  a  dull  thud 
among  the  rocks  below,  and  the  two  men  looked  at  each  other 
with  satisfaction. 

"So  much  for  saintship,"  remarked  Zaman  Shah  coolly. 
"And  now  to  return  whence  we  came.  The  idolatrous  dog, 
mind  you,  hath  given  us  the  slip — as  in  tcuth  he  hath — so  being 
quit  of  all  responsibility  for  safety — as  I  am — praise  to  the 
Prophet  !  —  I  will  get  my  supper  sooner  than  I  deemed 
possible." 

And  they  both  laughed.  His  saintship  had  been  to  them 
anathema,  and  his  death  seemed  to  them  but  fitted  to  his  crimes 
against  the  Most  High.  They  would  not  even  have  yielded  him 
the  prayer  for  mercy  they  would  have  repeated  to  the  dying  ears 
of  a  mouse  ! 

"  He  hath  gone,"  said  Ahmed  to  the  other  troopers  when 
he  joined  them  at  the  bridge,  leading  the  camels.  "  Taken 
the  quick  pony-path  likely ;  it  joins  in  but  round  the  corner. 
So  we  are  well  quit  of  him  and  a  weary  night's  ride  into  the 
bargain." 

' '  God  be  praised  !  as  the  cat  said  when  the  tiger  escaped 
by  the  door,"  cried  one  of  the  five  as  he  mounted  and  turned 
his  camel  on  the  backward  path. 

So  through  the  moonlight  once  more  they  retraced  their  steps, 
laughing  and  chattering.  But  the  Convoyer  of  Caravans  was 
silent  and  preoccupied.  To  begin  with,  he  was  alarmed  lest 
the  infant,  whom  he  carried  on  his  saddle-bow,  wrapped  up  as 
it  had  been  in  his  fur  coat,  should  begin  to  cry  again ;  and  then 
he  was  wondering  what  it  was  that  his  saintship  had  had  con- 
cealed in  his  hair.  If  it  was  a  jewel  belonging  to  some  princely 


1 6  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

house,  there  might  be  trouble  with  the  banker,  who  possibly  had 
held  it  in  pawn. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  it  was  a  treasure  belonging  to  some 
shrine,  the  owners  would  likely  say  nothing  publicly  about  a 
loss  which  might  injure  their  prestige,  and  therefore  their 
capacity  for  gaining  money  from  the  ignorant.  He  inclined  to 
the  latter  belief;  for  he  was  an  optimist  and  a  fatalist  com- 
bined ;  a  most  convenient  admixture  in  his  trade. 

So  he  set  the  very  idea  of  the  infant  aside  till  he  had  had  his 
supper,  leaving  it  happed  up  in  the  fur  coat  in  the  corner  of  the 
tent.  It  was  not  till  he  had  washed  a  prodigious  portion  of 
quail  curry  and  pillau  down  with  a  prolonged  draught  of  good 
Shiraz  wine — for,  like  so  many  Mahomedans  of  his  time,  his 
orthodoxy  did  not  extend  to  the  foreswearing  of  fermented 
liquors — that  he  ordered  the  servant  to  bring  him  the  bundle, 
and  not  to  drop  it.  For  he  had  no  notion  of  doing  dry  nurse 
himself,  and  he  wished  to  make  some  arrangement  for  the 
infant's  welfare  before  tackling  the  belated  report  of  the  day's 
doings  which  the  yawning  assistant  invoice-master  had  been 
waiting  to  give  for  some  three  hours ;  his  superior  having  incon- 
tinently retired  to  sleep  when  the  Convoyer  of  Caravans  started 
on  his  night  ride. 

So,  as  luck  would  have  it,  Ghiyass-ud-din's  eyes  were 
amongst  those  which  opened  wide  in  astonishment  when,  the  fur 
coat  being  unfolded,  disclosed  a  naked  new-born  babe  fast 
asleep. 

The  surprise  was  so  great  that  he  might  easily  have  betrayed 
himself,  but  for  a  slight  incident  which  distracted  Zaman  Shah's 
attention.  As  he  opened  out  the  coat,  something  fell  out  of  its 
folds. 

Brought  to  him  by  an  obsequious  attendant — one  of  those 
lick-spittle  servants  which  attend  all  officialdom  in  the  East — 
it  proved  to  be  nothing  but  a  little  lacquered  cup,  and  Zaman 
Shah's  eyes,  which  had  lit  up  with  sudden  interest,  dulled  again. 
Vet  he  looked  over  the  cup  curiously.  Black  and  red  and 
yellow  as  usual  showed  in  lines,  with  a  hint  of  green  below 
where  the  graver,  at  work  on  the  rough  and  ready  decoration, 
had  cut  deep  into  the  first  substratum  of  lac.  A  quaint  work, 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  13 


this,  to  watch,  as  the  rapid  lathe  wheel  covers  the  object  with 
coating  after  coating  of  coloured  sealing-wax,  till  black  or 
yellow  or  red  obscures  all  the  others,  leaving  box  or  cup  dull, 
uninteresting.  Then  a  swift  touch  of  a  chisel ;  the  superimposed 
colour  peels  off  as  by  magic,  leaving  a  contrasting  band.  A 
slightly  harder  pressure  of  the  tool  and  a  ring — maybe  of  purest 
white — appears.  But  the  crowning  glory  of  the  whole  mar- 
vellous creation  is  when,  graver  in  hand,  the  workman  with 
dexterous  flourish  maps  out  curves,  tendrils,  sets  them  unerringly 
with  flowers,  leaves,  fruits,  cutting  almost  imperceptibly  dowa 
to  the  green,  the  purple,  the  yellow,  the  blue.  So,  surely,  does 
the  Great  Creator  work  at  His  lathe;  so  surely  does  Fate  bite 
deep  into  man's  nature,  bringing  to  light  what  lies  in  him. 

This  particular  cup  was,  however,  of  very  ordinary  workman- 
ship, and  if  it  had  belonged  to  the  murdered  man,  as  it  must, 
he  had  evidently  set  but  little  store  by  it,  since  there  were  traces 
of  milk  in  it.  He  must  have  been  using  it  to  feed  the  babe 

withal  when Mayhap  the  charitable  deed  might  save  him 

some  torment  ! 

So  he  set  the  little  vessel  aside  and  turned  to  look  at  the 
group  of  bearded,  eager,  astounded  faces  that,  in  the  ill-lighted 
tent,  were  peering  at  a  baby's  face.  And  even  in  those  early 
days  something  about  that  face  held  them. 

"Lo!"  murmured  one,  "how  white  it  is!  'Tis  of  good 
parentage,  I  warrant  me." 

"Saw  I  never  the  like,  so  prim,  so  pretty  as  new-born," 
protested  one  with  grey  hair  and  possible  experience.  "  It 
hath  not  a  wrinkle.  And  it  looks  young,  not  old,  as  they 
all  do." 

In  truth,  the  age-long  look  had  vanished,  leaving  the  child 
plump,  placid. 

But  one  man,  a  tall  lank  fellow  with  a  philosophic  face,  said 
nothing.  He  was  looking  on  his  child's  face  for  the  first  time, 
conscious  of  a  great  yearning  in  his  very  vitals  towards  it, 
admitting  that  his  sons  had  not  been  half  so  attractive,  wonder- 
ing whether  to  confess  his  desertion  of  her  or 

All  this  time  Zamad  Shad  was  telling  how  she  had  been 
found,  fed  by  a  camel,  forgotten,  and  found  again.  How  she 


1 8  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

had  been  left  in  charge  of  the  jogi,  who,  before  absconding,  had 
fed  her  with  Pir  Khan's  sour  milk;  all  of  which,  told  in  his 
best  style,  elicited  roars  of  laughter. 

"Yea!  Yea!"  he  ended.  "But  'tis  no  laughing  matter, 
see  you  !  'Tis  true  the  child  hath  no  stomach-ache  through 
camel's  milk  and  jogVs  milk,  but  'twill  not  do  for  permanence. 
And  'tis  pity  she  should  die,  since  her  lungs  portend  long  life. 
A  wet  nurse  is  beyond  hope;  but  hath  none  of  you  a  woman 
who  for  a  consideration — since  I  will  pay — would  tend  the 
babe?" 

Ghiyass-ud-din's  head  span  round.  Here  was  his  chance. 
He  had  no  time  to  calculate ;  to  add,  subtract,  divide,  after  his 
wont.  A  vast  longing  seized  on  him  to  hold  in  his  arms  this 
little  daughter  of  his;  this  daughter  twice  born  to  him,  as  it 
were,  and  that  had  suddenly  become  the  dearest,  the  most  desir- 
able thing  on  this  earth.  His  voice  positively  trembled,  he  had 
to  clear  his  throat  ere  he  could  say  hastily,  lest  others  should 
be  beforehand  : 

"  If  it  please  my  lord,  his  slave  has  young  children,  and  they 
have  a  nurse.  A  stalwart  woman,  used  to  babes,  who  could 
mind  this  one  also,  if  my  lord  desires " 

Even  in  the  turmoil  of  his  mind  he  realized  it  was  wiser  not 
to  mention  a  possible  foster-mother ;  that  would  provoke  explana- 
tion, and  he  was  not  sure  how  this  autocratic  patron  might 
receive  it. 

Zaman  Shah  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"That  settles  it,"  he  cried  joyfully.  "So  I  have  not  to 
appease  her  hunger  myself,  I  care  not  who  has  the  task,  if  that 
it  be  properly  done.  For  look  you,  she  is  my  daughter.  God 
sent  her  to  me,  not  to  any  other  man.  So  take  her  quick  to  thy 
woman — and  this  " — he  threw  a  gold  ashrafi  on  the  fur  coat — 
"it  may  help  find  milk,  though  how — save  camel's — God  wot  ! 
And  stay,  the  cup  also.  'Tis  the  little  lady's  by  right  of  gift — 

a  gift  of  saintship  truly,  since  the  giver "  He  paused,  and 

covered  what  he  had  been  about,  ill-advisedly,  to  say  by  his 
usual  method  of  quoting  a  ghazel  from  Hafiz  : 

•"  I'll  drink  from  a  smagdarite  cup  my  wine  of  the  roses'  hue, 
Till  Death  makes  a  flagon  of  clay  out  of  me  and  of  you." 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  19 

The  rollicking  echo  of  his  voice,  attuned  to  cynicism,  followed 
Ghiyass-ud-din,  as,  scarcely  believing  in  his  own  luck,  he  cuddled 
the  child  closer  and  closer  as  he  made  his  way  back  under  the 
stars  to  the  tattered  tent  which  was  all  the  protection  he  had  been 
able  to  afford  his  family.  Bibi  Azizan  and  the  boys  monopolized 
every  inch  of  it,  he  slept  where  he  could,  and  Dilaram — stal- 
wart Dilaram — how  would  life  be  possible  without  her? — rolled 
herself  into  a  cocoon  in  her  cotton  blanket,  and  so,  with  every 
atom  of  air  excluded,  managed  to  keep  up  her  own  heat  and 
become  comatose  within  reach  of  a  call  from  her  charges. 

It  took  some  time  to  rouse  the  unrecognizable  bundle;  but 
finally  it  sat  up,  unhapped  a  face,  and  gave  a  tremendous  yawn. 

"What  is't,  master?"  she  asked  sleepily.  "  Hath  the  Bibi 
megrims  again,  or  what?  If  the  Huzoor  would  but  recognize 
that  she  is  herself  and  naught  else,  this  slave  would  have  better 
sleep.  Lo  !  the  soul  of  a  fool  is  dear  at  any  price." 

At  another  time  Meean  Ghiyass  might  have  taken  exception 
to  Dilaram's  sleepy  estimate  of  her  mistress,  but  he  was  too  much 
in  a  turmoil  of  joy  and  excitement  to  mind  anything  save  the 
child.  His  hands  shook  as  he  held  out  the  bundle  he  carried, 
and  uncovered  the  little  face. 

' '  Look,  woman  !  Look  !  The  Lord  hath  given  her  back 
to  me  !" 

For  an  instant  Dilaram  stared  like  a  stuck  pig.  Then,  quite 
unceiemoniously,  she  reached  out  her  stalwart  arms  and  appro- 
priated the  bundle. 

"  The  master  mistakes,"  she  said  coolly.  "The  Lord  hath 
given  her  back  to  me,  who  am  woman,  and  who  loved  her  from 
the  first.  Did  I  not  say  she  was  lusty — ay,  and  pretty  too? 
And  did  not  my  lord  say,  '  Peace,  fool  !'  Ay  !  Ay  !  '  Peace, 
fool  !  Peace,  fool ! '  And  he  comes  to  me  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  with  the  babe  he  discarded  at  dawn."  Then  with  an  air  of 
resignation,  as  who  should  say  what  a  man  might  or  might  not 
do, she  added, "Didst  go  back  all  the  way  to  fetch  her, master?" 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  Ghiyass-ud-din's  tongue  to  say,  "  Peace, 
fool  !"  once  more;  but  he  refrained,  and  told  her  briefly  how 
the  Convoyer  of  Caravans  had  made  the  babe  over  to  his  charge. 
"  He  must  have  found  her  likely,"  he  added  gravely. 


20  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

"Ay!  Ay!  Likely  he  did,  unless  the  babe  walked.  But 
there!  If  the  cat  kittens,  who  tells  the  father?  The  child  is 
here  and  it  should  have  been  dead  in  the  desert."  Once  more 
she  looked  down  at  it  with  approbation.  "  Yea,  'tis  a  lusty 
one  !  Bibi  Azizan  would  have  died  of  the  dose.  But  how  'tis 
to  be  fed  God  knows  !" 

For  answer  Ghiyass-ud-din  held  out  the  ashrafi,  and  Dilaram 
clutched  at  it. 

"  Why  not  give  it  with  the  babe,  master?"  she  asked  reproach- 
fully; "'twould  have  saved  me  somewhat  of  thought — but 
there  !  a  blind  mouse  doesn't  see  its  own  tail " 

"And  thou  wilt  buy  milk!"  suggested  the  father  anxiously. 
"But  where?  Lo  !  in  the  whole  camp  I  know  of  none — save 
camel's  milk " 

Dilaram  stood  up  and  laughed  a  loud  laugh.  "  Bah  !  I  will 
feed  the  co\v  we  have.  Bibi  Azizan  shall  suckle  the  child,  for 
all  she  is  so  like  a  grey  crane  with  a  toothache.  Yea,  she  shall 
eat,  and  that  heartily,  for  see  you,  the  babe  is  lusty,  ay  !  and 
pretty  too  ! " 

She  held  the  child  close  as  she  spoke,  and  Ghiyass-ud-din 
stood  helpless,  feeling  that  even  as  father  he  had  very  little 
to  say.  And  yet,  had  he  been  equal  to  the  situation,  he  would 
have  liked  to  sit  and  nurse  the  child  himself  ! 

Bibi  Azizan,  roused  sternly  to  her  duty  as  mother,  was  half 
inclined  to  cavil  at  Fate,  half  disposed  to  welcome  a  new 
interest.  But  the  child  was  pretty,  of  that  there  could  be  no 
doubt. 

So  the  days  passed  to  a  week,  the  weeks  to  a  month;  and 
every  day  Zaman  Shah  would  ask,  "  How  goes  my  daughter, 
Mihr-un-nissa?" 

And  every  day  Ghiyass,  with  an  inward  squirm  at  his  own 
deceit,  for  he  was  an  honest  fellow  at  heart,  would  say  con- 
strainedly that  there  was  no  fear  of  her  dying  from  the  cause 
of  not  drinking  milk,  that  being  in  India  the  recognized  reason 
for  death  in  all  infants  under  three  months  of  age.  And  indeed 
there  was  none. 

"  She  will  kill  me,"  wailed  Bibi  Azizan,  when  Dilaram,  tall 
and  domineering,  brought  the  child  to  her  at  stated  intervals. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  21 

"  So  that  she  be  not  killed,  I  care  not,"  retorted  the  nurse, 
"  and  with  good  savoury  lentils  and  sweet  pillau  the  mistress  will 
come  to  no  harm." 

"  But  I  shall  get  too  fat  !  I  shall  not  be  able  to  waddle," 
poor  Azizan  protested  with  more  tears.  "  Then  the  Meean- 
Sahib  will  want  another  wife,  and  I  shall  have  to  kill  myself." 

Dilarcam,  seated  on  the  ground  watching,  with  the  complacent, 
never-failing  interest  of  all  motherly  women,  how  Mihr-un-nissa 
imbibed  her  breakfast,  said  nothing  for  a  second,  then  mechanic- 
ally, as  if  her  words  needed  small  thought,  said  sagely, 
"  Trouble  not  thyself,  mistress.  The  man  is  no  fool ;  one  wife 
is  sufficient." 

And  Azizan  had  to  accept  the  doubtful  comfort. 

As  Zaman  Shah  had  hoped,  no  claim  regarding  the  murdered 
jogi  had  come  from  either  money-lenders  or  saints ;  and  there 
was  no  reason  why  they  should  come. 

Ahmed,  the  only  person  who  knew  of  the  murder,  had  con- 
sented to  silence  for  the  modest  sum  of  ten  rupees,  and  he  could 
gain  nothing  by  treachery.  Thus  the  incident  seemed  over,  and 
the  caravan  having  reached  the  Panjab,  where  the  Emperor 
Akbar's  autocratic  rule  made  safe  conduct  unnecessary,  Zaman 
Shah  had  leisure  to  settle  up  the  somewhat  tangled  accounts  of 
merchandise  received  or  convoyed.  In  a  sort  of  slap-dash  way 
he  was  no  bad  total ler  up  of  dues,  but  the  more  intricate  cipher- 
ing on  paper  had  ever  been  beyond  him,  and  he  had  felt  him- 
self more  or  less  in  the  hands  of  his  Hindu  accountants.  So 
the  marvellous  rapidity  and  precision  of  the  ci-devant  mathe- 
matical professor  was  a  delight.  Day  by  day  Ghiyass-ud-din 
grew  to  favour,  and  when  the  caravan  arrived  at  Lahore  the 
Conveyer  thereof  incontinently  sacked  the  Hindu  and  nolens 
volens  promoted  Ghiyass  to  the  higher  state  and  pay ;  much  to 
the  latter's  disgust,  for  he  had  cherished  the  hope  of  breaking 
loose  and  once  more  feeling  that  his  child  was  his  own.  As 
matters  now  stood,  he  told  himself,  he  was  no  more  than  an 
outcast.  The  women  seemed  to  have  joined  forces  in  pinning 
him  down  as  the  chief  offender  in  the  matter  of  desertion,  whereas 
he  had  acted  in  accordance  with  logic.  But  Dilaram  never  let 
him  touch  the  child,  and  his  wife  went  so  far  as  to  veil  the  baby's 


22  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

face  when  he  came  near,  as  if  he  had  the  evil  eye.  What  did 
for  his  patience,  however,  was  the  Conveyer  of  Caravans' 
remark  in  promoting  him,  that  as  he,  Zaman  Shah,  intended 
to  marry  Mihr-un-nissa  so  soon  as  she  was  old  enough,  it  was 
as  well  to  insure  her  being  brought  up  under  his  own  eye. 

Ghiyass-ud-din,  proud,  aristocratic,  could  not  stand  this;  so 
he  up  and  out  with  the  whole  story,  much  to  Zaman  Shah's 
disgust. 

Despite  immediate  anger,  however,  the  latter  was  a  good- 
natured  man,  and  after  a  few  round  curses  laughter  prevailed. 

11  Ho  !  Ho  !  By  all  the  twelve  Imams  !  A  goodly  trick 
indeed  !  To  take  the  child  and  my  gold  ashrafi  too — nay, 
twain,  for  I  have  given  thee  one  since  ! — and  then  to  restore  the 
child  to  its  proper  mother  to  suckle  !  Truly  a  cake  for  thee, 
dough  for  me  ! ' ' 

"  My  lord,"  pleaded  Ghiyass  in  extenuation,  "  she  was  nigh 
starving.  She  could  not  have  suckled  the  babe  without  food  ! 
Eight  rupees  go  not  far  in  five  months,  and  my  little  sons  are 
lusty." 

"  Ha  !  Ha  !"  laughed  the  Convoyer  again;  "  thou  begettest 
lusty  children,  though  thou  beest  but  a  poor  lank  piece  thyself. 
But  see  you,  sirrah  !  How  hadst  thou  the  heart  to  leave  that 
.beauty  to  the  jackals?  By  the  Prophet !  the  first  blink  of  her 
was  enough  for  Zaman  Shah.  But  then  I  am  connoisseur  !" 
And  he  twirled  his  moustache  arrogantly. 

The  much  abashed  Ghiyass  attempted  explanation.  "I — I 
saw  her  not,  my  lord  !  I  feared  to  be  undone.  'Twas  Dilaram 
the  nurse  who — who  laid  her  aside  !" 

Zaman  Shah  shook  his  head  sagely.  "  Stick  to  thy  figures, 
brother;  there  thou  art  supreme.  But  it  needs  more  than 
Al-jabr*  to  manage  women;  'tis  jabr-dust\  they  require,  as 
these  Panjab  folk  have  it.  I  must  see  this  nurse  and  trounce 
her." 

He  saw  her;  but  the  trouncing  scarcely  came  off. 

Dilaram  duly  appeared  before  him,  bearing  the  baby  cuddled 
on  her  right  arm,  her  left  hand  dangling  over  its  nose  the  little 
lacquered  cup,  which  she  had  ingeniously  converted  into  a  rattle 
*  Algebra.  f  Lit.,  strong  hand. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  23 

by  putting  peas  inside,  covering  the  top  with  a  piece  of  sheep's 
bladder,  and  tying  a  string  round  its  middle. 

Despite  her  tender  age — a  bare  two  months — the  child's  fat 
arms  were  struggling  blindly  for  the  prize,  making  vain  shots 
at  it,  touching  it,  and  setting  it  still  further  a-swing.  It  was  a 
breathless,  purblind  pursuit  in  which  helpless  legs  joined  help- 
less arms,  mouth  half  open,  eyes  puckered  to  a  frown.  Every 
action  of  the  small  person  intent  on  something,  what  it  scarcely 
knew. 

Truly  an  entrancing  sight,  ended  by  Dilaram  deliberately 
lowering  the  cup  on  to  the  open  mouth,  which  closed  on  it  and 
began  to  suck  vigorously.  Whereat  Zaman  Shah  laughed. 

"  My  lord  sent  for  this  slave,"  suggested  Dilaram  tentatively. 
"  What  can  I  do  for  my  lord?" 

"To  ask  thee,  witch-of-the-evil  one,"  said  Zaman  Shah,  all 
the  more  sternly  in  that  he  knew  his  appreciation  of  the  past 
little  comedy  had  been  noticed,  "how,  in  God's  name,  thoti 
didst  dare  to  expose  to  wild  beasts  a  soul  and  body  He  had 
sent  to  my  caravan?" 

Dilaram  sat  down  full  flounced,  laid  the  infant  before  her  on 
her  skirts,  and  folded  her  arms  over  her  massive  chest. 

"  Which  end  shall  I  swallow  first?  asked  the  pelican  of  the 
fish,  master.  Because  I  had  no  choice.  Even  beauty  without 
dower  is  a  prey  to  many  men — yea,  even  such  men  as  my  lord  is." 

The  blood  flew  to  Zaman  Shah's  face,  turning  it  dusky. 

"  How  now,  slave?"  he  began,  but  Dilaram  fixed  him  with  a 
calm  eye.  '  The  child  is  princely  born,  master ;  though 
Ghiyass-ud-din  claims  not  his  right.  And  what  is  life  without 
marriage  to  a  woman?  'Tis  but  the  half-split  of  a  pea  to  a 
dishonourable  marriage — and  that  is  God's  curse.  And  then  " — 
she  had  taken  the  measure  of  her  man  astutely — "  death  the 
first  day  is  easier  than  death  by  starvation,  and  without  the 
master's  gold  ashrafis  Mihr-un-nissa  (we  call  her  by  the  name 
the  master  bestowed — with  life — upon  her)  would  have  tugged  in 
vain  at  an  empty  breast.  So  I  did  well ;  but  my  lord  has  done 
better." 

And,  unfolding  her  strong  arms,  she  swept  the  most  appre- 
ciatory  of  salaams. 


*4  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

"  Thou  hast  a  ready  tongue,  woman,"  said  Zaman  Shah, 
"  but  mark  you,  I  renounce  not  my  claim  on  the  child  !" 

11  Nor  I  mine,"  retorted  Dilaram,  gathering  up  her  charge  to 
her  capacious  breast.  "  Lo  !  master,  she  may  need  us  both,  for 
the  gods  have  given  her  beauty — that  is  a  curse  to  women- 
kind  !" 

It  was  an  even  more  fatal  gift  than  mere  beauty  that  the  gods 
Had  bestowed  on  little  Mihr-un-nissa.  They  had  given  her, 
charm.  Ere  she  was  three  months  old  she  was  the  darling  of 
the  camp.  Everyone  vied  with  the  other  to  make  her  toys — 
wriggly  snakes  out  of  curled  bamboo  slips,  yellow  and  black 
tigers  out  of  painted  mud,  beautiful  snow  bears  out  of  cotton 
pods — but  she  would  none  of  them.  Her  rattle  contented  her, 
and  if  it  rolled  out  of  her  reach  she  rolled  after  it,  to  the  intense 
amusement  of  the  spectators ;  for  never  was  infant  endowed  with 
greater  tenacity  of  purpose  than  this  one.  Every  atom  of  her 
dimpled  body  worked  hard  to  achieve  her  object,  and  when  it 
was  gained,  the  content  on  her  dimpled  face  was  all-pervading. 
So  the  long  caravan  crept  its  way  peacefully  through  the 
Panjab  plains,  and  Zaman  Shah  had  almost  forgotten  the  very 
existence  of  the  murdered  jogi  when  one  night  Dilaram  sought 
a  private  audience  with  him,  her  little  charge,  as  usual,  in 
Her  arms. 

She  laid  it  down,  asleep,  among  her  flouncing  petticoats,  and 
began  her  tale. 

"  We  are  being  watched,  master,  the  child  and  I.  Yesterday 
an  ash-smeared  abomination  came  begging.  To-day  there  were 
two  from  the  town.  Idolaters  with  hair-crowns  like  the  one 
whose  cup  is  the  child's  rattle.  And  one  admired  it,  asking 
whence  the  child  had  gotten  it." 

"  And  what  saidst  thou?"  came  the  instant  query  with  quick 
interest  in  the  tone. 

"That  I  purchased  it  for  a  pice  in  the  Rawul  Pindi  bazaar, 
seeing  that  the  one  the  babe  had  before — which  was  gotten  from 
a  naked  abomination  such  as  they — had  been  stolen  from  her  by 
another  naked  wretch  who  wore  his  hair  long  and  whose  ears 
vrere  whole.  Theirs  were  split,  see  you,"  she  replied  imper- 
turbably. 


25 

Zaman  Shah  gasped,   and  looked  at  her  with  stupefaction. 
And  he  had  ever  decried  woman's  wit ! 
"  Why  didst  lie — so  nobly?"  he  asked. 

Dilaram  settled  herself  down  more  comfortably,  and  began 
with  a  prodigious  yawn  : 

"  Because  a  snake  goes  crooked  to  its  own  hole,  master.  And 
the  men  looked  sly,  to  match  the  untruth.  Besides,  the  ash- 
smeared  idolater  who  owned  the  child's  cup  had  his  ears  split 
even  as  these.  So  I  count  them  as  friends ;  but  they,  the  long- 
haired, whole-eared  sort  are  foes ;  so  I  set  one  against  the  other, 
and  that  is  good  doing.  Then" — she  paused  and  fixed  Zaman 
Shah  with  her  eyes — "  who  knows  what  really  became  of  split- 
ear?  The  master  says  he  ran  away — and  fair  riddance  too — 

but  Ahmed " 

"  What  of  Ahmed,  woman?"  put  in  the  Conveyer  of  Caravans 
sharply,  on  the  alert  for  any  babbling. 

"Naught,  naught,  my  lord,"  replied  Dilaram  airily,  "save 
that  he  has  been  oft  drunk.  Now  no  leech  sticks  to  a  stone, 

and  wine  comes  not  save  from  a  long  purse.     Besides ' 

She  paused. 

"  Besides  what?"  asked  Zaman  Shah  angrily,  for  he  felt  the 
woman  was  turning  him  inside  out. 

"  Only  that  we  women  love  by  lies  to  confound  the  strength 
of  men,"  she  replied  coolly.  "  Thus  I  sent  them  away  with 
fleas  in  their  split  ears  !" 

Zaman  Shah  felt  irritation  overcoming  his  interest. 
"  Thou  hast  done  well,"  he  said  in  lordly  fashion,  "  and  I 
will  see  that  the  beggars  come  not  into  camp  again." 

Dilaram  laughed  scornfully.  "  Seeing  to  it  when  sight  is 
gone  is  blind  man's  work,  master,  and  I  follow  not  that  path. 
These  ash-smeared  ones  are  by  repute  passed  thieves;  so  I  have 
taken  steps  along  the  road  of  stratagem.  For,  see  you,  the 
child  shall  keep  her  luck.  As  the  adage  runs,  '  Birth  and  Death 
together  in  one  bed  make  a  long  life  for  the  one  not  dead,'  and 
she  was  but  just  born  when  jogi-jee  met  his  end." 

"Who  told  thee  he  was  dead?"  interrupted  Zaman  Shah 
hastily. 

Dilaram  stared  affably.     "  None — till  now,  master,  though  I 


26  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

guessed  it.  Not  that  I  care  one  pin's  point  who  lives  or  dies  so 
that  the  child  keeps  her  luck.  Thus  sniffing  danger,  I  took 
steps."  She  drew  back  the  covering  from  the  child.  "  See 
you,  she  clasps  the  string  of  her  rattle  as  ever.  Dost  see  any 
difference,  master?  Yet  the  true  one  is  here  in  safe  custody." 
She  drew  out  a  lacquered  cup  from  her  capacious  bosom  and  laid 
it  beside  the  other.  "  Lo  !  the  lacquer-maker  in  the  bazaar  had 
it  done  in  a  trice  from  the  pattern  and  charged  me  a  pice  for  it. 
And  I  rubbed  it  in  dirt  to  take  off  the  newness.  So  if  the  ash- 
smeared  abominations  steal,  they  shall  steal — naught." 

Zaman  Shah  looked  at  her  admiringly.  "Verily  thou  hast 
wits  in  that  stout  body  of  thine.  Truly  'tis  a  trick;  for  if  they 
steal  and  find  not  what  they  sought,  they  will  deem  thou  didst 
speak  truth  about  the  theft — and  so  follow  after  the  straight- 
haired,  whole-eared  one  !  Ha,  ha  !" 

Dilaram  caught  up  the  child  and  salaamed  resignedly.  "  Yea, 
master;  thy  wits  have  it  now.  But  have  a  care  for  thyself; 
these  God-forgotten  idolaters  stick  at  nothing." 

So  she  returned  to  the  tent  where  Bibi  Azizan  and  the  boys 
slept  peacefully,  and  cuddling  the  child  close  to  her  for  safety, 
lay  down  to  rest.  For  some  time  she  remained  awake  listening 
to  every  sound ;  but  as  the  night  wore  on  the  effort  became  too 
great,  and  she  fell  asnoring. 

When  she  woke  day  was  glinting  bright  through  the  slit  of  the 
tent  curtain. 

Her  first  thought  was  for  the  rattle.  It  still  hung  from  the 
child's  fat  wrist,  and  as  she  rose,  yawning,  to  prepare  the  morn- 
ing's food,  she  told  herself  that  she  might  have  saved  herself 
a  pice;  still,  better  lose  that  than  be  caught  napping. 

It  was  not  until  she  brought  little  Mihr-un-nissa  out  into  the 
sunlight  that  she  started,  looked  closer,  then  muttered  to  her- 
self :  "  Prayers  are  over  !  Up  with  the  carpet !" 

For  the  cup  which  was  carefully  threaded  on  to  the  original 
string  was  not  the  one  she  had  put  there  the  previous  night. 

Truly  the  ash-smeared  ones  were  clever  thieves;  but  they  had 
been  foiled  this  time  by  a  woman's  wit. 


CHAPTER  III 

"  Life's  scale  tips  up,  then  settles  down  again  ; 
'  One  rati  more  !'  the  Jeweller  cries.     In  vain 
Our  Purse  we  ransack.     So  the  Treasure  goes 
Back  to  the  Store  of  Things  we  cannot  gain." 

"  KEEP  thy  cursed  beasts  from  this  ways,"  said  Dilaram 
angrily,  shifting  backwards  a  little  as  she  sat  with  Mihr-un-nissa 
in  her  arms,  watching  a  snake-charmer  make  his  cobras  dance. 
For  the  third  time  one  of  them  had  dropped  down  and  com- 
menced a  quick  wriggle  towards  her  side  of  the  gathered  semi- 
circle of  spectators. 

The  man — he  was  extraordinarily  small,  extraordinarily  agile- 
looking,  with  slender  dark  limbs  and  restless  dark  eyes — caught 
the  offender  by  the  tail,  dexterously  slipped  his  other  hand  up 
behind  the  hood,  and  so  returned  it  to  its  round  basket,  where, 
as  he  slowly  dropped  it  in,  it  curled  itself  round  in  an  obedient 
coil. 

"  'Tis  not  this  slave's  fault,"  he  said  with  a  salaam.  "  'Tis 
the  fault  of  queenship.  The  nag  is  wise — it  recognizes  royalty." 

The  crowding  semicircle  tittered  at  the  retort,  and  Dilaram 
snorted.  "Cease  flattery,  fool !"  she  remarked  superbly.  "If 
I'm  a  queen  and  you're  a  queen,  who'll  bang  the  butter?" 

And  the  crowd  laughed  at  the  prcverb.  It  was  easily  amused  ; 
but,  the  second  snake  refusing  to  dance  without  its  comrade,  the 
show  was  over;  so  the  audience  melted  away  to  other  distrac- 
tions. For  the  Caravan  had  come  to  the  town  of  Thaneswar, 
and  there  was  more  than  enough  to  please  all  and  sundry.  Even 
on  ordinary  days  the  "  City  of  God  "  is  quaint  beyond  compare, 
with  its  high  pink  walls  scalloped  with  white  like  a  frosted 
cake,  the  multitudinous  gilt  spires  of  its  temples,  and  its  sacred 
lake  formed  by  a  deep  pool  of  the  Saraswati  river,  that  mysterious 
stream  which  not  so  many  miles  southwards  loses  itself  once  and 
for  all  in  the  golden  sands  of  the  Rajputana  desert.  Yet,  quaint 

27 


28  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

as  the  city  is,  its  interest  pales  before  that  of  the  country  in  which 
it  stands.  For  all  around  it  lies  "  Kuru-kshetra  " — in  other 
words,  the  great  Field  of  Battle  where,  ever  since  those  half 
mythical  times  when  the  Kauravas  fought  the  Pandavas  on 
the  plain  of  Paniput,  the  fate  and  fortunes  of  every  alien  con- 
queror of  India  has  been  decided.  Strange,  almost  beyond 
thought,  it  is  to  wander  on  some  moonlit  night  over  the  wide 
stretches  of  young  green  wheat  that  hides  the  bones  of  innumer- 
able men — millions  on  millions  of  them — and  listen  for  the  far- 
off  echoes  of  strife  which  folk  say  are  still  to  be  heard  by  those 
who  choose  to  hear.  And  they  say  true ;  for  to  those  who  have 
imagination  the  past  is  even  as  the  present.  But  the  people 
who  drifted  away  elsewhere  when  the  snake-show  was  ended 
did  not  even  remember  that  but  a  few  years  before  Akbar,  the 
Emperor,  now  reigning  in  the  plentitude  of  youthful  power  at 
Agra,  had  secured  his  crown  on  that  same  plain ;  did  not  even 
realize  that  the  blood  of  the  thousands  slain  there  was  still 
enriching  the  soil,  still  giving  colour  to  the  young  wheat. 

They  had,  however,  more  excuse  for  forgetfulness  than  usual, 
for  Thaneswar  was  in  gala  dress.  There  was  to  be  an  eclipse 
of  the  moon  that  night.  Now  the  legend  runs  that  at  such 
times  all  the  sacred  waters  of  India,  north,  south,  east,  and 
west,  come  to  renew  their  holiness  in  their  sister  Saraswati's 
breast.  Pilgrims  to  the  pool,  therefore,  gain  the  absolution  of 
many  ablutions;  so  the  shores  of  the  little  lake  were  crowded, 
and  jugglers,  dancers,  musicians,  sweetmeat-sellers  set  up  their 
shows  on  all  sides  to  amuse  the  people.  Bairagis  these,  for  the 
most  part  clean,  sleek,  well  fed ;  none  the  less  religious  mendi- 
cants and  so-called  ascetics. 

In  those  days  Thaneswar  was  one  of  the  richest  shrines  in  the 
country;  indeed,  Zaman  Shah  had  come  some  way  out  of  the 
direct  road  to  Delhi  in  order  to  deliver  a  consignment  of  rich 
stuffs  and  spices  to  the  head  Gosain,  a  man  of  repute  and  power, 
who  at  the  moment  was  showing  himself  to  the  pilgrims  at  the 
further  end  of  the  pool. 

This  affording  a  diversion,  the  snake-charmer  and  Dilaram 
were  left  alone. 

After  a  quick  glance  round,  he  edged  his  way  towards  her  on 


M/STRESS  OF  MEN  29 


the  soles  of  his  feet  as  he  squatted.     Then,  without  raising  his 
voice,  he  said  : 

"  The  royalty  is  not  thine,  sister — it  is  the  child's;  but  have 
a  care  of  it.  There  be  thieves  abroad." 

"  What  mean'st  thou?"  asked  Dilaram  quickly. 

He  pointed  to  the  child's  rattle,  then  shifted  a  step  nearer. 
"  There  was  a  jogi  once.  He  died  by  the  hands  of  bunglers; 
had  they  trusted — others — they  might  have  found  what  they 
sought." 

DilarSm  drew  in  her  breath  hard.  "  That  one  was  stolen," 
she  muttered,  reverting  to  the  old  lie.  "  I  purchased  this  in 
the  Lahore  bazaar  for  a  pice." 

The  snake-charmer  did  not  laugh,  he  chuckled.  "  And  the 
royalty,  sister,  that  the  snake  saw?  Whence  comes  it?  Didst 
pay  a  pice  for  it  also?"  His  voice,  jeering,  but  not  insolent, 
told  her  the  time  of  lies  was  past,  and  curiosity  overcoming  her, 
she  asked  rapidly  : 

"Then  it  is  talisman?     I  ever  thought  it  was." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  he  rose  to  adjust  the  yoke  to 
which  his  baskets  swung. 

"That  know  I  not;  but  that  it  was  prized  is  certain,  else 
why  send  bunglers  to  kill  him  who  carried  it?  So  hide  it  away, 
sister;  anyhow,  while  the  caravan  remaineth  at  Thaneswar  1" 

"  Wherefore?"  she  began;  then  comprehension  clutched  at 
her.  That  chance  shot  of  hers  of  rivalry  between  the  split-ears 
and  long-haired  must  have  been  true ;  and  at  Thaneswar  they 
were  bairagis!  The  thought  held  her  for  a  second  or  two,  and 
when  she  recovered  herself  the  snake-charmer  was  already  many 
paces  away. 

She  hesitated  about  calling  him  back,  decided  against  it ;  but, 
taking  the  rattle  off  the  child's  wrist,  hid  it  in  her  bosom  and 
made  her  way  back  to  the  tent. 

It  was  best  to  be  on  the  safe  side. 

But  here  trouble  of  another  kind  met  her;  trouble  that  had 
already  vexed  her  more  than  once.  But  this  time  she  found 
Bibi  Azizan  exultant  because  after  many  attempts  she  had  suc- 
ceeded in  persuading  her  husband  that,  with  his  larger  emolu- 
ments, it  was  only  fitting  the  child  should  have  a  wet  nurse; 


30  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

therefore  Dilaram  had  orders  to  see  about  procuring  one  with- 
out delay.  As  they  were  halting  by  so  large  a  town,  this  should 
not  be  difficult. 

Possibly  it  would  not  have  been  so,  had  that  stalwart  woman 
desired  it.  But  she  did  not.  With  Bibi  Azizan,  who  was  only 
too  glad  to  get  rid  of  her  little  daughter  on  the  slightest  pretext, 
Dilaram  was  certain  of  the  child's  affection;  with  another 
woman,  in  whose  arms  Mihr-un-nissa  would  be  day  and  night, 
matters  would  be  very  different. 

So  she  fought  tooth  and  nail  against  the  suggestion. 

"  I  care  not,"  insisted  her  mistress,  between  anger  and  whim- 
pering. "  'Tis  not  the  custom  in  high-born  families  for 
mothers  to  suckle  their  infants,  and  the  child  is  hungry  as  a 
wolf." 

"  The  mistress  should  bethink  her  of  the  days  to  come,  when 
half  Hindustan  will  be  craving  to  send  the  betrothal  dates," 
suggested  Dilaram  artfully.  "  Lo  !  she  is  beauty  incarnate,  as 
all  can  see." 

"  Yea  !  Yea  !  If  the  smallpox  come  not  nigh  her,"  argued 
the  mother  fretfully.  "Who  looks  at  a  bride  with  one  eye?" 

Dilaram  flared  out  in  a  white  heat  of  rage. 

"  What !  Art  not  afraid  to  even  the  darling  to  such  a  fate? 
Lo  !  'Twould  be  just  punishment  were  the  evil  to  befall  thy 
sons !" 

"  'Twouldn't  matter  so  much,"  protested  Azizan,  now  full  of 
tears.  "  Who  asks  of  the  grooms  beauty  or  health?" 

This  was  true.  Besides,  these  tempers  of  the  mother  invari- 
ably resulted  in  a  stomach-ache  for  the  child,  who,  in  truth,  was 
hardly  getting  enough  for  her  strong  frame.  So  Dilaram 
flounced  away,  irate. 

She  would  get  a  goat,  she  told  herself,  and  some  boy  or  old 
man  to  tend  it;  the  child  was  healthy,  and  would  thrive  doubt- 
less. If  not,  there  was  always  the  wet  nurse.  So  she  sent 
word  to  the  kotwali,  or  police-station,  of  her  wants,  and  judg- 
ing discretion  to  be  the  better  part  of  valour,  decided  on  remain- 
ing in  seclusion  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  There  were  too  many 
bairdgis  about  for  safety,  especially  until  she  could  see  Zaman 
Shah  in  the  evening  and  tell  him  of  the  snake-charmer's  warning. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  31 

A€ the  moment,  both  he  and  Ghiyass-ud-din  were  busy  deliver- 
ing their  tale  of  goods  at  the  Chief  Priest's  store.  When  that 
was  satisfactorily  finished  they  passed  through  the  narrowest, 
darkest,  filthiest  alleys  imaginable,  to  the  Chief  Priest's  house. 
It  stood  close  to  the  temples,  backed  by  the  indescribable  squalor 
of  the  town,  but  open  in  front  to  what  was  generally  the  still 
levels  of  the  sacred  pool.  To-day,  however,  the  margin  of  the 
lake  flashed  in  the  sunlight  as  the  multitude  of  bathers  sent  the 
water  eddying  and  rippling  in  silver  waves.  The  perfume  of 
spent  jasmine  and  marigold  mingled  with  the  incense  that 
floated  out  from  the  temples,  and  the  insistent  yet  separate 
clanging  of  bells  from  within  the  various  shrines  seemed  as  if 
the  very  pulse-beats  of  life  were  being  counted — counted  and 
appraised  by  Something  Unseen,  Unknown.  To  the  imagina- 
tive mind  this  Something  shrouded  all  things  in  a  veil  of  mystery. 
Both  the  laughter  of  the  crowd  and  its  eagerness  for  re-generation 
and  absolution,  seemed  pitiful  beside  that  ceaseless  counting  of 
the  heart-beat  of  humanity. 

The  Mohunt,  or  Chief  Priest  of  the  shrines  and  monastery, 
however,  was  not  imaginative.  He  was  oily  without,  oily 
within ;  everything  slipped  off  him,  soul  and  body,  save  personal 
gratification.  The  outcome  of  a  long  line  of  hereditary  so-called 
ascetics,  who  lived  to  prey  on  the  ignorance  of  pilgrims,  he  was 
corrupt  to  the  core,  and  as  he  sat  solemnly  flattering  the  Con- 
voyer  of  Caravans  while  atar  and  -pan  was  handed  round,  he 
was  telling  himself  that  now  the  outcast  had  performed  his  task 
of  delivering  certain  valuables,  it  was  time  he  should  pay  for 
another  treasure,  which  in  some  mysterious  way  had  disappeared 
from  the  camp. 

For  the  jogi  who  had  joined  the  caravan  at  Kabul  had  had 
the  treasure.  Of  that  there  could  be  no  doubt.  But  when 
jogi-jee  had  been  murdered  by  the  emissaries  of  the  shrine 
nothing  had  been  found  upon  him — nothing. 

So  Ramanund,  Chief  Gosain,  flattered  the  Convoyer  of  the 
Caravan  and  artfully  led  the  stilted  conversation  of  a  ceremonial 
visit  to  a  point,  till  he  could  say  abruptly  : 

"  And  has  his  honour  heard  no  more  of  the  split-ear  jogi  who 
was  murdered  near  his  camp?" 


32  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

For  one  instant  Zaraan  Shah  was  taken  aback.  Then  he 
recovered  himself.  "  The  Maharaj,"  he  said,  "  speaks  of 
things  beyond  this  slave's  knowledge;  nathless,  the  Maharaj 
may  know  more  of  the  murder — if  there  was  one — than  other 
folk;  thus,  he  may  be  able  to  say  who  did  the  deed — if  it  was 
done." 

And  the  two  men  sat  looking  steadily  into  each  other's  eyes 
in  the  pause  which  in  Eastern  interviews  of  ceremony  always 
follows  on  each  remark. 

"  This  slave  knows  but  by  hearsay,"  continued  Ramanund. 
"One  of  the  split-ears  passed  the  shrine  not  long  since,  and 
said  the  deed  was  done  by  thieves  for  something  the  man  car- 
ried in  his  hair — a  worthless  but  a  holy  cup — so  he  said." 

Flashes  of  inspiration  come  to  most  men  at  times.  One  came 
in  the  pause  of  etiquette  to  Zamin  Shah  as  he  remembered 
Dilaram's  trick,  and  when  it  was  time  to  talk  again,  he  laughed 
aloud  : 

"  Lo  !  by  the  twelve  Imams  !  Maharaj,  make  me  excused. 
But  I  have  enough  of  such  cups.  A  woman  in  the  camp  who 
nurses  a  child  made  a  disturbance  about  such  an  one  which  she 
found,  and  gave  her  nursling  as  a  toy.  And  she  has  it  that  it 
was  stolen  from  her  by  a  split-ear  at  Lahore  and  another  put  in 
its  place.  Mayhap  the  Maharaj  might  like  to  see  and  question 
her.  I  will  send  her  to  my  lord  on  my  return." 

Ramanund 's  watchful  eyes  glittered  during  the  pause. 
"Wherefore  should  I  put  His  Excellency  to  trouble?"  he 
replied  oilily.  "  I  will  return  with  my  lord  and  see  for 
myself." 

There  was  the  faintest  note  of  irony  in  the  last  words,  and 
Zaman  Shah  felt  himself  trapped.  There  might  be  no  time  to 
effect  the  exchange  which,  in  emulation  of  Dilaram's  previous 
trick,  he  had  intended ;  at  least,  not  without  a  delay  which  might 
arouse  suspicion. 

All  this  time  Ghiyass-ud-din,  who  was  innocent  as  the  babe 
unborn  of  all  the  secret  intrigue  concerning  Mihr-un-nissa's 
rattle,  had,  in  accordance  with  etiquette,  sat  mumchance;  but 
now  he  spoke  deferentially. 

"May  pardon  be  mine,"   he  said  in  courtly   fashion,    "to 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  33 

neither  of  my  lords  should  this  labour  come.     I,  with  permission, 
will  return  and  send  the  woman  and  the  child  hither." 

It  was  well  meant;  but  Zaman  Shah  hastily  cut  him  short. 

"Nay,  friend,"  he  said.  "  'Tis  better  Mohunt-;'<?<?  should 
take  the  woman  unprepared ;  the  truth  comes  uppermost  in  sur- 
prise, does  it  not,  Most  Religious?"  And  his  haughty  stare 
nearly  imposed  on  the  Mohunt ;  nearly,  not  quite.  Those  watch 
ful  eyes  had  noted  Zaman  Shah's  first  start. 

As  they  made  their  way  to  the  camp  past  the  margin  of  the 
lake,  the  latter's  mind  was  busy  as  to  how  the  business  of 
exchange  was  to  be  carried  through.  Frankly,  he  did  not 
know.  If  the  worst  came  to  the  worst  he  must  risk  some  delay. 
And  after  all  it  was  a  triviality.  But  for  the  desire  to  outwit 
this  man  who  had  tried  to  outwit  him  he  would  have  told  the 
truth  about  the  cursed  little  cup.  Meanwhile  he  backed  his 
luck.  Was  it,  he  wondered,  about  to  desert  him?  for  there 
at  the  door  of  the  tent  sat  Dilaram,  the  child  in  her  arms.  He 
felt  helpless.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  be  straightfor- 
ward and  leave  deception,  if  it  were  possible,  to  the  woman. 

She  was  equal  to  the  occasion. 

"  So  the  Religious  wishes  to  see  the  child's  rattle,"  she  said 
calmly  in  answer  to  Zaman  Shah's  halting  tale.  "Nay,  but 
he  is  welcome.  Mayhap  the  touch  of  holy  hands  may  make  this 
even  as  the  last  that  the  hell-doomed,  split-eared  thief  stole  from 
me  at  Lahore."  And  with  that  she  took  the  string  of  the  toy 
off  the  child's  wrist  and  handed  the  cup  affably  to  the  Mohunt. 

"May  God  help  us!"  murmured  Zaman  Shah  under  his 
breath.  "  Women  are  beyond  us  men  !" 

Meanwhile  the  sudden  flash  of  interest  on  the  Mohunt's  face 
was  dying  down  to  disappointment,  and  after  a  very  brief  inspec- 
tion he  handed  the  toy  back. 

And  here  Dilaram's  curiosity  once  again  got  the  better  of  her. 
"  Yea,  yea,"  she  nodded.  "  rTis  of  no  account — but  the 
other? — the  other  was  talisman,  was  it  not?" 

And  once  again  the  answer  was  evasive.  "  Of  that  I  know 
not  !  But  'twas  prized,  anyhow,  else  why  should  it  be  stolen?" 

The  Mohunt  looked  from  one  to  the  other  face  keenly  ;  but  the 
woman's  showed  stolid,  the  man's  bewilderment. 

\  3 


34  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

"  Wherefore  indeed,"  echoed  Dilaram  coolly,  "save  that  if, 
as  the  master  sayeth,  it  once  belonged  to  split-eared  jogi-jee,  'tis 
his  brethren  belike  that  have  it  now.  So  that  ends  it." 

But  when  the  Gosain  had  swept  away,  dissatisfied,  with  his 
attendants,  she  sat  down  suddenly,  laid  the  child  on  her  skirts, 
and,  lifting  her  hands  skywards,  gave  a  heartfelt  "  God  be 
praised  !" 

"Yea,  yea!"  cavilled  Zaman  Shah,  "God  is  above  all — but 
how  didst  do  it?" 

Then  she  told  him  of  the  snake-charmer,  and  how  for  safety's 
sake  she  had  hidden  the  real  rattle  and  given  the  child  the  false 
one  instead. 

"  Thou  hast  the  devil's  own  luck,  woman,"  said  Zaman 
Shah,  "  but  play  no  more  tricks  with  fate.  Drop  the  cursed 
cup  down  a  well  and  trust  to  Mihr-un-nissa's  own  fortune." 

But  Dilaram  shook  her  head.  "  Nay,  master,  I  will  keep 
both,  for  see  you — the  split-ears  believe  the  long-haired  have  it, 
and  the  long-haired  think  the  split-ears  have  secured  it,  so  we 
good  folk  set  free  of  suspicion  and  harm — Sobhan  Allah  !" 

Could  she  have  followed  Ramanund,  however,  she  might  have 
rescinded  the  last  word,  for  as  he  sat  secure  from  interruption, 
save  from  his  own  immediate  entourage,  in  the  darkest  recess 
of  the  most  holy  of  holies,  his  face  showed  an  almost  ghoulish 
ferocity.  Before  him  crouched  a  very  small  man  of  such  dark 
complexion  that  he  seemed  scarce  seen  in  the  obscurity. 

"There  are  the  fifty  rupees,"  said  the  Mohunt.  "Thou 
didst  fail  in  thy  last  mission — the  cup  for  which  we  hazarded  so 
much  hath  gone  back,  it  seems,  to  the  split-ears — so  see  that 
thou  fail  not  in  this.  Those  three  must  die — the  man,  the 
woman,  and  the  child." 

A  faint  chuckle  came  from  the  darkness.  "  Lo  !  I  have 
done  more  than  that  in  half  an  hour,"  said  a  low  voice.  "  The 
Noose  of  Death  is  swift,  my  lord." 

"  Hurry  it  not,  then,"  was  the  reply.  "  Wait  till  suspicion 
cannot  lie  here;  but  they  reach  not  Agra." 

After  that  a  chink  as  of  money  being  counted  mingled  with 
that  ceaseless  yet  intermittent  clang  of  the  bronze  bells  that  hung 
before  the  idols  in  the  sanctuaries. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  35 

For  it  was  to  be  a  great  night  in  Thaneswar.  But  everywhere 
that  chink  of  money  mingled  with  the  call  to  grace.  The  alms- 
bags  began  to  bulge;  folk,  seeing  it  so,  judged  that  salvation 
must  be  bought  by  this  time,  and  having  perambulated  every 
sacred  spot,  paid  toll  at  every  sacred  shrine,  squatted  down  on 
the  margin  of  the  lake  to  await  the  rising  of  the  moon. 

And  all  around  them,  aiding  the  lush  growth  of  the  young 
wheat,  lay  the  countless  dead  who  in  life  had  yearned  after  and 
waited  for  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  even  as  they  yearned  and 
waited. 

But  the  camp  of  the  caravan  was  busy  striking  tents  against 
the  forward  march  next  morning,  for  Zaman  Shah  had  had 
enough  of  Thaneswar;  but  Dilaram  would  fain  have  tarried, 
since  the  bespoken  goat  had  not  arrived.  Not  that  the  heart's 
darling  would  suffer,  since  will-he  nill-he  Bibi  Azizan  must  con- 
tinue her  duty  till  a  substitute  was  found.  So  there  was  whim- 
pering and  anger  and  protestation ;  but  Dilaram  had  her  way. 
And  after  all,  the  penance  was  not  long,  since  at  the  very  next 
camp  a  milk-white  goat  in  charge  of  a  very  old  man  appeared 
and  proved  to  be  all  that  could  be  desired.  A  very  old  and  a 
very  small  man,  with  no  teeth  and  a  two  days'  beard  frosting 
his  lank  cheeks.  He  wore  no  clothes  save  a  small  waist  cloth 
and  a  crimson  strip  of  some  kind  of  stuff,  neither  cotton  nor 
wool,  that  did  duty  as  turban.  So  his  old  anatomy  was  plainly 
visible.  But  at  times  he  was  agile  enough,  and  his  bright  bead- 
like  eyes  were  always  watchful.  Still,  he  also  was  all  that 
could  be  desired,  and  as  the  days  passed  Dilaram  set  aside  a 
curious  distrust  that  she  had  seen  him  before,  and  more  than 
once  she  gave  the  babe  to  his  keeping  whilst  she  was  busy  with 
other  work.  He  seemed  to  have  a  knack  of  amusing  her,  for 
when  Dilaram  gave  the  pair  a  look  to  see  that  all  was  well,  she 
would  find  the  child  sitting  large-eyed,  grave,  watching  the 
fingers  that  were  so  agile,  despite  their  age,  as  they  looped  a  bit 
of  string  this  way  and  that  and  then  with  a  jerk  undid  the 
knotted  thread. 

"  Thou  art  conjuror,  for  sure,"  said  the  woman,  graciously 
enough,  and  the  old  man  chuckled. 

"Yea,  yea,"  he  mumbled.     "For  sure  I  am  conjuror!     I 


36  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

make  changes  that  are  beyond  wit.     So  shall  the  baba-sahiba 
in  years  to  come;  but  in  a  different  way." 

Once  again  Dilaram  looked  to  discover  where  she  could  pos- 
sibly have  seen  him  before,  and  failed  to  find  a  memory.  Still, 
he  seemed  careful  and  inoffensive.  By  his  own  desire,  he  and 
his  goat  slept  close  beside  the  tent,  so  that  they  might  be  at 
hand  should  occasion  arise;  and  more  than  once,  coming  out 
during  the  night,  Dilaram  had  found  the  old  man  squatting 
wide  awake  by  the  tent-flap. 

"  Dost  never  sleep?"  she  asked  carelessly. 

' '  Yea,  mistress,  yea, ' '  he  mumbled ;  ' '  when  work  is  done  we 
s4eep — and  so  do  others."  And  again  he  chuckled. 

Thus  the  days  and  nights  passed.  They  were  dark  nights, 
so  the  camp  was  quiet.  So  quiet  that  when  Dilaram  woke  one 
time  she  leant  over  to  see  if  Mihr-un-nissa  were  indeed  breathing, 
since  such  alarms  assail  all  true  nurses.  And  as  she  listened  she 
heard  a  faint  noise.  It  was  like  a  whispered  chuckle.  Then 
suddenly  a  low  voice  said  in  command  :  "  Thou  hast  a  light — 
strike." 

Scarce  knowing  what  she  did,  she  obeyed,  and  would  have 
screamed  but  for  a  sharp  "  Hist !" 

She  held  her  breath,  gazing  at  what  she  saw.  Before  her, 
one  behind  the  other,  lay  two  dark  figures,  so  slender,  so  lithe, 
they  were  like  snakes,  and  both  held  in  their  right  hands  a 
noosed  strip  of  crimson  cloth.  The  noose  of  the  first  lay  loose 
around  Mihr-un-nissa's  baby  throat,  but  the  noose  of  the  second 
was  tight  round  a  man's. 

"God  and  his   Prophet!"   she  almost  moaned.     "What?" 

The  man  behind  sat  up.  It  was  the  goat-tender;  but  the 
years  had  fallen  from  him.  Ay,  the  goat-tender,  but  the  snake- 
charmer  also !  So  her  voice  tailed  off  into  a  whispered 
"  Who?" 

"  I  am  the  Strangler,"  came  the  calm  reply.  "  Yonder  is 
the  Bungler,"  and  a  lithe  finger  pointed  scornfully  to  the  still 
figure  in  front  of  him.  "He  will  bungle  no  more."  He 
leant  over,  loosened  the  noose  about  the  man's  neck,  and  coolly 
untwisting  the  silken  stuff,  wound  it  round  his  shaven  head.  But 
the  figure  lay  still. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  37 

By  this  time  Dilaram  had  recovered  from  her  terrified  stupe- 
faction. "  Thou  art  a  murderer,"  she  exclaimed.  "  I  will 
call " 

The  deft  hand  was  on  the  end  of  the  noose  that  lay  loose 
about  the  child's  throat.  "Best  not,  mistress,"  came  a  warn- 
ing voice.  "  Did  I  not  say  I  was  the  Strangler?  Ere  help 
could  come,  thou  and  the  little  queen  yonder  would  have  suffered 
change  !  And  I  would  not  do  her  evil.  The  world  will  do 
that  all  too  well.  Yet  she  hath  Luck  with  her,  and  for  that  I 
watched  for  you  and  her,  and  that  cursed  fool  of  a  Convoyer, 
who  were  as  well  killed." 

"But  wherefore?"  began  Dilaram  tremblingly. 

The  small,  scarce  seen  figure  was  terrible  in  its  calm,  as,  with 
a  twitch  which  brought  a  half  uttered  cry  from  the  woman,  the 
noose  about  the  child's  neck  unhitched  itself  and  seemed  to  coil 
into  his  hand  as  the  snake  had  coiled  into  its  basket. 

"Wherefore?"  he  echoed.  "Because  yon  carrion  stole  my 
task.  Look  you — he  was  Bungler,  I  am  Strangler.  So  it  was 
mine  by  right,  and  he  being  of  my  tribe  knew  this ;  but  he  hath 
learnt  his  lesson.  Yea,  I  let  him  slip  past  me,  I  let  him  cast 

the  noose  of  Death,  and  then "     A  faint  chuckle  came  from 

his  lips  as,  standing  up,  he  stooped  and  lifted  the  dead  body  of 
the  Bungler  in  his  arms  as  easily  as  he  would  have  lifted  a 
child ;  but  the  flickering  light  of  the  cresset  Dilaram  had  lit 
fell  and  glistened  on  muscles  tense  and  strong  as  steel,  whence 
old  age  had  vanished  utterly. 

He  paused  with  his  burden  for  a  second.  "  Say  naught, 
and  there  is  safety  for  all.  Speak,  and  there  is  danger,"  he 
whispered  rapidly.  "  By  dawn  the  Strangler  will  be  goat- 
tender  !" 

For  a  full  hour  Dilaram  sat  shivering,  the  light  still  in  her 
hand.  Then,  through  the  rifts  of  the  tent,  faint  dawn  began  to 
show,  and  she  summoned  up  enough  courage  to  rise  and  look  out. 

The  old  goat-tender,  old  as  ever,  was  beside  his  goat,  and 
he  was  fast  asleep.  There  was  no  further  need  to  keep  awake ; 
that  at  any  rate  was  comforting;  but  Dilaram's  head  was  in  a 
whirl.  The  day  passed,  however,  as  other  days,  and  none  knew 
of  the  tragedy  that  had  been  enacted  save  one  woman  who 


38  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

shivered  despite  her  stalwart  strength  and  one  old,  half  palsied 
man  whose  watchful  eyes  held  youth  in  them. 

Dilaram  felt  as  if  she  could  have  thrown  away  the  brimming 
lotahs  full  of  milk  he  offered  her;  but  something  calm  and 
calculating  in  those  eyes  made  her  keep  control  over  herself. 

And  she  was  rewarded.  The  caravan  reached  Delhi  that 
night,  and  the  next  morning  a  bright-faced  boy  appeared  as 
goat-tender.  The  old  one  had  gone. 

"  Whither?"  asked  Dilaram,  feeling  a  grip  at  her  throat. 

"  To  Bundelkund,  mistress.  He  belongs  there,  so  he  said. 
And  he  is  a  kind  man.  He  gave  me  this  to  tie  the  goat  with." 

This  was  a  long  twisted  slip  of  what  had  once  been  crimson 
silk.  It  was  worn  and  frayed  by  use.  .  Dilaram  shivered  again. 
But  she  was  acute  enough  to  see  that  the  episode  of  the  cup- 
rattle  had  ended.  Both  the  long-haired  and  the  split-ears  were 
confident  it  had  been  stolen ;  and  now  revenge  had  passed  harm- 
less, thanks  to  that  Strangler  who  was  not  a  Bungler.  So  she 
breathed  again. 


CHAPTER  IV 

is  decked  in  Spring  by  Him  who  knows, 
For  life's  great  bridal  so  the  maiden  grows  : 
Gems  without  price  within  her  heart  He  hides,    , 
And  on  her  green  branch  hangs  His  crimson  rose." 

:  was  late  March  when  the  caravan  reached  Agra,  and  Mihr-un- 
nissa  was  six  months  of  age ;  for  these  old-time  journeyings  were 
leisurely.  She  was  a  picture  of  strength  and  beauty ;  so  strong, 
indeed,  that  by  the  help  of  Dilaram's  finger  she  could  stand 
upright,  and  more  than  once  had  launched  herself  forth  into  the 
world  recklessly  in  pursuit  of  her  beloved  rattle ;  for  it  never 
failed  in  its  attraction.  Nor  did  she.  People  stopped  to  notice 
her  always,  and  as  they  passed  called  down  blessings  on  her 
little  life,  lest  it  should  be  thought  that  her  great  beauty  had 
aroused  envy,  and  so  brought  the  evil  eye. 

As  Zaman  Shah  had  predicted,  his  recommendation  had  been 
sufficient  to  procure  for  Ghiyass-ud-din  a  post  in  the  Finance 
Department,  where  he  was  already  gaining  golden  opinions  from 
his  superiors ;  so  the  cup  of  Bibi  Azizan's  content  was  almost 
full.  Restored  to  her  proper  position,  well  housed,  well  fed, 
with  money  wherewith  to  buy  dress  and  cosmetics,  the  only  thing 
wanting  was  an  entry  to  Court  circles. 

And  that  came  in  this  wise. 

The  gardens  which  the  dead  Emperor  Baber  had  planted  with 
his  own  hands,  and  which  pleased  his  grandson  Akbar  in  more 
detached  and  dilettante  fashion,  were  ablaze  with  flowers. 
Roses  straggled  over  the  marble  pathway,  the  tall  cypresses  were 
wreathed  with  double  jasmine,  the  white  and  scarlet  hibiscus 
were  beginning  to  show  on  their  dense  thickets,  while  over  all, 
through  all,  the  scent  of  the  orange  blossom  that  starred  the 
burnished  leaves,  beneath  which  hung  the  round  fruit  that  was 
fast  yellowing  to  gold,  made  the  air  heavy  with  perfume. 

39 


4o  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Now  Mihr-un-nissa  was  wilful  to  no  common  degree.  There 
was  already  strife  between  her  and  her  small  brothers  over  toys. 
They  held,  naturally,  that  as  male  creatures  they  should  have 
all  the  best  of  everything.  She  denied  this;  her  baby  fingers 
held  fast  to  her  own,  her  rosebud  of  a  mouth,  when  opened 
wide  in  distress,  emitted  a  vast  volume  of  sound.  So  it  came 
to  pass  that,  for  peace  sake,  Dilaram  would  oft  leave  the  boys 
behind  in  charge  of  one  of  the  other  servants  whom  Ghiyass-ud- 
din's  emoluments  made  possible,  and  take  the  little  lass  to  the 
"  Gold-scattering  Garden  "  that  lay  close  to  their  house. 

She  did  not  know  this,  but  it  was  a  garden  haunted  by  the 
memories  of  happy  children — Baber,  grey  of  hair,  a  child  in 
soul ;  Tardi  Beg  the  darvesh,  world-worn  in  body,  a  veritable 
urchin  in  mind ;  sedate  little  Gulbadan  and  Alwar,  the  mar- 
vellous boy  destined  to  early  death.  Here  had  the  four  played 
ball  together;  here  had  they  chased  each  other  and  laughed — 
laughed  the  whole  long  summer  day. 

Perhaps  that  was  why  little  Mihr-un-nissa  was  so  happy  there ; 
for  she  was  of  their  tribe — the  tribe  of  wanderers  through  the 
desert  of  life,  the  tribe  that  sits  free  even  in  this  world. 

So  one  day,  as  she  sat  playing  with  a  red  rose  Dilaram  had 
plucked  for  her,  the  Emperor  Akbar,  in  one  of  his  moods  for 
solitude,  came  adown  the  orange-enarched  path.  A  tall  broad 
figure  of  a  man  still  in  the  prime  of  youth,  alert  of  body,  dream- 
ful of  eye;  but  the  dreams  just  then  were  happy  ones,  for  they 
centred  round  his  two-year-old  son  Prince  Salim — the  son  for 
Avhom  he  had  waited  so  long ;  the  son  in  commemoration  of 
whose  happy  birth  the  rose-red  walls  and  palaces  of  Fatehpur — 
the  City  of  Victory — were  rising  like  magic  on  the  rocky  ridge  of 
Sikri.  So  the  whole  strong  soul  of  the  man  who  swayed  all 
India  with  his  little  finger  as  easily  as  a  weathercock  is  swayed 
by  the  faint  breath  of  dawn,  was  preoccupied,  not  with  himself, 
not  even  with  his  power,  his  Empire,  but  with  the  future  of 
his  son. 

The  day  was  warm.  -The  yellow  glare  of  the  sunlight  seemed 
to  hold  and  imprison  the  myriad  colours,  the  myriad  scents  of 
the  garden.  The  perfume-laden  atmosphere  seemed  in  its  turn 
almost  a  visible  link  between  flower  and  leaf,  between  blossom 


s 

i 


41 

and  fruit — ay,  even  between  the  man  and  the  little  child,  who, 
set  quickly  on  her  feet  by  Dilaram  as  the  Emperor  passed,  stood 
holding  on  to  her  nurse's  strong  finger,  and  staring  at  him.  The 
daintiest  little  figure,  clad  after  Bibi  Azizan's  own  heart  and 
with  all  the  good  taste  that  lady  certainly  possessed.  A  quaint 
little  figure,  too,  in  full  petticoat  and  veil,  holding  a  red  rose 
tight  in  one  fat  little  hand. 

The  Emperor  paused,  hesitated.  Dilaram's  head  was  almost 
on  the  ground  in  lowliest  fashion  when  the  child  suddenly  let  go 
the  upholding  finger  and  lurched  forward,  the  rose  in  her  out- 
stretched hand. 

"  Have  a  care,  little  one,"  cried  the  Emperor,  and  the  next 
nstant  she  was  in  his  arms.  Even  so  her  purpose  did  not  waver. 
She  stuffed  the  rose  under  his  nostrils  for  him  to  smell,  sniffing 
vigorously  herself  the  while. 

And  he  sniffed  too. 

"A/i  ha!  Ah  ha!  Ha  ha!  Ha  ha!"  So  the  twain  were 
for  the  moment  as  one — the  man  who  had  come  to  the  fulness 
of  life  and  the  woman  who  was  to  come  to  it  in  the  future.  And 
the  whole  savour  of  that  life,  blinding  sweet  in  its  griefs  as 
well  as  its  joys,  its  failures  as  well  as  its  successes,  seemed — so 
far  as  the  man  was  concerned — to  mingle  with  the  aromatic 
perfumes  of  flower  and  fruit,  and  shut  out  sense  of  all  but 
beauty  incarnate. 

But  the  child  went  on  sniffing  at  the  rose. 

"  Ah  ha!     Ah  ha!" 

"  Whose  is  the  little  lass?"  asked  the  Emperor  curtly,  setting 
her  back  in  Dilaram's  arms.  "  What — Meedn  Ghiyass-ud- 
din's?  I  remember.  Bid  her  mother  bring  her  to  the  palace 
to-morrow.  She  may  amuse  my  son." 

So  he  passed  on.  Dilaram  looked  after  the  autocratic  figure 
vexedly.  There  had  not  been  one  word  of  praise  for  the  heart's 
darling ;  the  daintiest,  sweetest,  prettiest  little  marionette  the 
world  had  ever  seen  or  \vas  likely  to  see.  Nothing  but  his  son, 
forsooth  ! 

The  child,  however,  was  content.  She  ha<l  achieved  her 
object;  the  rose  had  been  duly  smelt.  She  could  now  puil  it  to 
pieces,  which  she  did  remorselessly. 


42  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Even  Dilaram's  embittered  reminder  that  the  introduction 
was  due  to  the  despised  daughter  could  not  dull  Bibi  Azizan's 
almost  frenzied  delight  at  the  invitation  to  Court.  She  lay 
awake  all  night  devising  how  best  to  appear  to  advantage;  and 
as  she  was  really  a  very  astute  little  person  in  a  worldly  way, 
Mihr-un-nissa  came  in  for  no  small  share  of  her  planning. 

"She  must  look  her  best,"  she  nodded,  full  of  wreathed 
smiles,  "for,  see  you,  'children's  plays  bring  wedding 
days!'" 

Dilaram  snorted.  "  Set  not  aims  so  high,  mistress,  or  falls 
will  come ;  then  'twill  be  '  Who  wants  to  get  up  ?  as  the  sluggard 
said  when  he  fell  into  the  well !' ' 

"High?"  echoed  Bibi  Azizan  indignantly.  "Is  not  the 
Meean  of  a  princely  family,  for  all  he  feeds  on  paper  like  a  fish 
insect?  I  tell  you  it  shall  be  an  auspicious  day." 

Fate,  however — and  Mihr-un-nissa — willed  it  otherwise  ;  for 
she  was  cutting  her  back  teeth,  and  was  contrary  to  a  degree. 
So  much  so  that  she  refused  to  yield  her  pet  plaything  to  a  boy, 
even  though  he  was  the  heir  apparent ;  and  when  her  indignant 
mother  reft  it  from  her  by  force,  she  let  loose  such  yells  that 
the  great  Emperor  himself  came  in  to  see  that  was  wrong  in  the 
nursery. 

"  Your  pardon,  mother,"  he  said  good-humouredly  as  Bibi 
Azizan  hastily  veiled  herself.  "  I  wist  not  there  were  strangers; 
and  verily  I  thought  someone  was  being  killed." 

A  chorus  of  explanation  from  the  ladies,  and  tearful  protesta- 
tions from  behind  the  veil,  mingled  with  Mihr-un-nissa's  appeal 
for  justice,  while  Prince  Salim,  a  fat,  heavy-looking  child  of 
nigh  three,  sat  triumphantly  beating  the  cup  upon  the  floor. 

The  Emperor,  man-like,  saw  his  opportunity  for  a  display  of 
moral  power.  "  Lo  !  Shaikie,  my  son,"  he  said  in  his  deep 
full  voice,  "all  men — and  kings  especially — must  learn  to 
respect  the  property  of  others." 

And  with  that  a  peremptory  hand  annexed  the  toy.  Where- 
upon Mihr-un-nissa's  howl  found  fit  second  in  a  roar  from  the 
Prince,  the  two  making  such  brain-splitting  noise  that  Akbar 
clapped  his  hands  to  his  ears  and  beat  a  hasty  retreat. 

"  God  gives  the  reward  of  silence  !"  he  laughed.     "  Here  " — 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  43 

he  flung  the  plaything  towards  the  children — "let  them  fight 
for  it  like  puppies." 

' '  For  shame,  nephew  ! ' '  came  a  thin  silvery  voice  from  a  little 
lady  whose  abundant  white  hair  showed  under  a  rose-coloured 
veil.  "  They  be  not  dogs,  but  man  and  woman;  and  'tis  the 
woman's  part — 

Here  she  also  burst  into  a  laugh.  Indeed,  anything  more 
comical  than  the  race  between  the  babies  could  not  be  imagined. 
Prince  Salim  began  well,  being  on  his  feet  with  wonderful 
celerity  considering  his  stoutness ;  but  Mihr-un-nissa,  disdaining 
even  to  crawl,  cast  herself  on  the  ground  and  rolled  over  and  over 
with  such  appalling  swiftness  that  Shaikie,  seeing  himself  out- 
done, cast  himself  upon  her  in  turn.  Whereupon  there  arose, 
not  shrieks  of  anger,  but  shrieks  of  laughter  as  the  tussle  went 
on,  until  Mihr-un-nissa,  grabbing  the  cup,  sat  up  and  deliber- 
ately banged  Prince  Salim's  head  with  it,  thereinafter  offering 
it  to  him  with  a  complacent  smile  which  converted  the  outrage 
into  an  honour. 

The  tears  of  laughter  were  running  down  Akbar's  face. 
"  Said  I  not  truly  they  had  best  fight  it  out?  Lo  !  the  little 
lass  is  true  woman;  she  gives  of  her  own  free  will." 

And  a  little  pair  of  hands  belonging  to  the  rose-coloured  veil 
clapped  loudly,  and  the  silvery  voice  cried,  "Well  done  !  Well 
done  !  but  blows  should  never  be  taken  on  loan,  Shaikie  !  Give 
it  her  back,  child  !  Give  it  her  back  in  a  kiss." 

Whether  in  unwonted  obedience  to  his  great-aunt  Rosebody's 
suggestion,  or  because  it  fitted  in  with  his  own  wishes,  Prince 
Salim  did  as  he  was  bid.  Mihr-un-nissa  received  the  salute  with 
chill  dignity,  and  thereinafter  there  was  peace ;  though  the  ladies 
of  the  harem  were  scarcely  pleased. 

Bibi  Azizan  when  she  got  home  hardly  knew  whether  the  visit 
had  been  a  success  or  a  failure. 

"For  look  you,"  she  said  tearfully,  "it  Avas  a  portent — 
most  as  good  as  a  betrothal." 

"Traa!"  retorted  Dilaram.  "What's  a  snippet  or  snippet 
broth?  There  be  more  than  kisses  to  a  betrothal  !  Nay,  Bibi, 
sing  your  own  song  and  play  your  own  pipe,  for,  mark  you, 
many  a  thing  that  falls  from  the  sky  sticks  in  a  palm-tree. 


44  MI  STRESS  OF  MEN 

Meddle  not  with  things  that  be  above  you.  But  what  will  you  ! 
The  camel  drowned  and  the  frog  asked  if  the  pool  was 
deep  !" 

When  Dilaram  resorted  lavishly  to  the  hoarded  wisdom  of 
proverbs  she  was  quite  unanswerable;  so  Bibi  Azizan  held  her 
peace. 

But  this  incident  was  the  beginning  of  a  considerable  intimacy 
between  Ghiyass-ud-din's  household  and  the  Palace.  The 
little  Prince  began  it  by  loudly  demanding  the  return  of  the 
"  cry-baby  and  her  rattle,"  whereupon  Dilaram,  always  wily, 
took  care  to  substitute  the  imitation  cup  for  the  real — a  trick 
which  enormously  improved  Mihr-un-nissa's  temper,  since, 
curiously  enough,  it  was  only  the  real  cup  that  she  would  yield 
to  none.  So  Prince  Salim  was  allowed  to  possess  it,  and  the 
ladies  of  the  harem  complimented  Bibi  Azizan  on  the  effect  of 
good  society  on  the  child's  manners. 

"  And  they  were  most  of  them  Hindus,"  wept  the  Bibi,  "  who 
know  nothing  of  real  etiquette." 

But  she  swallowed  her  dignity  for  the  time.  And  as  the 
months  passed  it  grew  until  it  could  no  longer  be  ignored. 
Zaman  Shah,  returning  the  next  year  with  another  caravan, 
found  his  protege  promoted  to  Assistant  Treasurer.  By  this 
time  the  Court  had  moved  to  Fatehpur,  and  the  camel  loads  were 
full  of  jade,  cornelian,  and  agates  for  inlaying  work,  besides 
rich  carpets  and  stuffs  for  the  new  palaces.  And  still  Akbar 
the  Emperor  dreamt  his  dream  of  the  race  that  should  come 
after  him  and  reap  the  benefit  of  what  he  was  sowing. 

So  the  years  passed  on.  Ghiyass-ud-din  rose  to  be  Lord  High 
Treasurer,  and  Bibi  Azizan,  by  repute  and  consent,  became  the 
recognized  leader  of  fashion  in  the  outermost  Court  Circle.  In 
the  innermost  the  Beneficent  Ladies  stuck  to  their  old  Chagatai 
modes  and  customs.  One  of  these  permitted  of  far  greater 
freedom  amongst  boys  and  girls  than  was  countenanced  in  strict 
and  orthodox  Mahomedan  households.  So  Mihr-un-nissa  and 
her  brother  Asof  Khan  continued  to  be  playmates  with  the  heir 
apparent  and  his  two  younger  brothers.  There  were  other 
princelings  and  princesslings  too,  so  that  the  party  was  a  merry 
one.  And  they  all  chanted  the  Koran  together,  and  drew  huge 


45 

black  letterings  on  white  chalked  writing-boards,  and  learnt 
their  tables  up  to  sixteen  and  three  quarter's  times  sixteen  and 
a  half.  At  least,  the  boys  did,  and  Mihr-un-nissa  picked  it  up 
easily  by  hearing  them. 

"She  hath  my  head  for  figures,"  said  Ghiyass-ud-din. 
Though  he  was  .very  silent  and  undemonstrative,  his  little  daugh- 
ter was  more  to  him  than  all  the  world  beside. 

"Traa!"  replied  his  wife  scornfully.  "Of  what  good  are 
figures  to  a  woman?  Praise  God  she  hath  inherited  beauty — 
yea,  a  figure  and  a  face  too — from  my  side  of  the  family. 
Leave  ciphering  to  the  boys  !" 

Ghiyass  pulled  a  rueful  face.  "I  would  if  I  could,  wife; 
but  when  I  asked  Asof  what  ten  times  nine  was,  he  answered  me 
thirty-nine;  and  when  I  upbraided  him,  he  maintained  that  the 
Prince  said  it  so,  and  the  tutor  agreed.  I  misdoubt  me  they 
are  spoiling  the  boy  between  them." 

Bibi  Azizan  bridled.  "  Princes  cannot  be  spoilt.  But  'tis 
time,  Meedn-jee,  that  Mihr-un-nissa  retire  from  playing  with 
boys;  'twill  make  her  unmaidenly.  Besides,  the  Prince  will 

become  accustomed  to  look  on  her  as  a  sister,  and  that " 

She  paused  before  Ghiyass-ud-din's  sudden  anger.  "  And 
wherefore  not,  woman?  Emperor  though  he  may  be  in  the 
future,  he  is  half  Hindu ;  besides,  I  like  not  his  looks.  My 
daughter  shall  mate  with  one  of  her  own  class.  And  that 
reminds  me.  'Twas  ever  arranged  between  me  and  mine  ancient 
friend  and  cousin,  Khizy  Shah,  that  should  he  have  a  son  and 
I  a  daughter  they  should  marry.  Nay,  make  not  a  turmoil ; 
nothing  is  settled,  but  the  lad  comes  from  Herat  with  Zaman 
Shah  next  year,  as  I  would  fain  see  him;  besides,  he  must  join 
the  Emperor's  service.  Meanwhile,  the  child  shall  run  free. 
She  but  touches  six,  and  to  cage  her  would  be  to  cage  a  young 

gazelle "     He   paused   and   smiled.     "  Besides,    'tis   good 

for  the  boys how  she  queens  it  over  them;  even  the  Prince." 

Here  Bibi  Azizan's  irritation  overcame  her  whimperings — for, 
though  her  husband  seldom  laid  down  the  law  as  he  had  been 
doing,  experience  taught  her  that  when  he  did  so  he  meant  to 
take  his  own  way. 

"Yea,  yea,"  she  interrupted  wrathfully,  "even  the  Prince! 


4  6  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Why,  she  twists  him  round  her  little  fingers  !  Is  that  to  count 
for  naught?" 

Ghiyass-ud-din  eyed  her  sternly.  "Ay,  unless  he  be  good 
man;  and  that  remains  to  be  seen." 

What  her  father  had  said  about  caging  the  little  lass  was 
true.  Tall  for  her  age,  lithe,  slender,  graceful,  Mihr-un-nissa 
seemed  the  embodiment  of  youthful  freedom.  Her  large  nut- 
brown  eyes  sparkled  with  sheer  vitality,  her  long,  slightly  curly 
brown  hair,  no  matter  how  deftly  plaited,  had  a  trick  of  becom- 
ing undone  and  floating  in  the  sun-bright  air,  and  her  dancing 
feet  found  a  path  for  themselves  anywhere,  and  everywhere. 
And  it  was  true  also  that  she  queened  it  over  the  Prince,  as  she 
queened  it  over  all  the  boys.  The  girls  she  treated  with 
indifferent  calm.  Their  ways  were  not  her  ways.  They 
shrieked  at  a  mouse,  but  when  her  favourite  white  Persian  cat, 
that  Zaman  Shah  had  brought  her,  caught  one,  she  snatched  it 
from  the  claws  of  death  and  kissed  it  and  cuddled  it,  weeping 
salt  tears  when  she  found  protection  had  come  too  late.  And 
despite  all  opposition  and  outcry  she  insisted  on  "  kufn-dufn," 
or  funeral  obsequies. 

"  Moulvie-jee  made  us  all  learn  the  text  about  animals  from 
the  Holy  Book  because  Shaikie  pulled  the  legs  off  flies,"  she 
said  defiantly;  "and  a  mouse  comes  from  God  even  as  thou 
dost,  Dilaram."  So  in  her  clear  childish  voice  she  intoned  those 
notable  words,  so  little  known  in  the  West,  so  little  remembered 
by  the  East : 

"  Lo  !  every  beast  that  walketh  upon  the  earth,  and  every  bird 
that  flieth  with  wings,  is  a  people  like  unto  you.  From  the 
Lord  they  came,  to  the  Lord  will  they  return." 

The  echo  of  the  soft  Arabic  sibilants  and  curiously  liquid 
gutturals  rang  out  into  God's  sunshine  and  seemed  to  match  it. 

So  the  mouse  was  buried  with  honour  in  one  corner  of  the 
huge  garden  where,  one  after  another,  the  red  sandstone  palaces 
and  summer-houses,  which  still  remain  to  show  what  the  glories 
of  the  City  of  Victory  were  in  the  olden  days,  rose,  each  in 
itself  completely  marvellous,  intricate  of  design  and  workman- 
ship. One  of  these  palaces  at  the  highest  point  of  the  garden 
\vhere  the  roach  back  of  the  Sikri  ridge  trended  away  on  either 


M/STRESS  OF  MEN  47 

side,  was  not  yet  finished ;  and  folk  wondered  at  it  then,  as 
they  wonder  at  it  now;  for  the  "  Palace  of  the  Four  Winds  " 
is  a  puzzle  for  all  time. 

Was  it  really  built  as  a  playground  for  an  idolized  son? 
People  nowadays  ask  the  question  incredulously.  Was  all  that 
cube,  not  of  solid  masonry,  but  delicate,  intricate  stone-carving, 
built  to  please  a  child?  Were  those  four  wide  low  stories — 
open  to  all  the  four  winds  of  heaven — with  their  innumerable 
arches,  innumerable  pillars,  no  two  of  them  alike,  really 
designed  so  that  an  Imperial  heir  should,  on  rainy  days,  find  the 
wide  air  and  infinite  variety  of  Nature  in  his  playground  ? 
What  devotion,  what  infinite  fatherly  care,  if  it  were  so  !  And 
how  rewarded  !  The  mind  shrinks  appalled  from  that  father's 
disillusionment.  Small  wonder  that  in  the  years  to  come  Akbar 
deserted  the  City  of  Victory  as  a  City  of  Dead  Dreams. 

Meanwhile,  the  children  played  hide-and-seek  and  blind  man's 
buff  amid  the  wide  arches.  First  on  the  lowest  story,  then  in 
the  next,  and  the  next  as  the  quaint  gnome-like  structure  grew  to 
its  completion.  And  Mihr-un-nissa,  between  the  whiles  of 
play,  would  trace  with  her  delicate,  dainty  little  fingers  the 
carvings  on  the  multitudinous  pillars,  and  name  the  birds  and 
beasts,  the  flowers,  the  fruits  thereon ;  for  she  was  of  the  tribe 
who  are  at  one  with  such  things. 

She  was  just  seven  years  of  age  when  the  topmost  story  of 
the  Palace  of  the  Four  Winds  was  completed.  The  children 
had  arranged  quite  a  festival  for  the  occasion.  Others  were 
to  be  invited  :  Akbar  himself,  possibly  his  ministers,  Birbal  and 
Abul-fazl,  were  to  be  present,  and  a  little  coign  of  vantage  duly 
screened  off  had  been  arranged  for  Auntie  Rosebody — who 
dearly  loved  children's  games — and  such  of  the  Beneficent 
Ladies  as  chose  to  accompany  her.  Mihr-un-nissa  was  full  of 
the  occasion.  She  was  to  do  this  and  that  and  the  other  thing, 
when  a  bomb  fell  which  left  her  for  the  moment  quite  speechless 
with  indignation. 

She  was  not  to  go.  She  was  now  seven  years  old ;  it  would 
be  unmaidenly,  immodest,  especially  as  strange  men  might  be 
there.  So,  at  any  rate,  said  her  mother,  and  this  time  her 
mother  was  backed  by  her  father's  reluctant  opinion. 


48  M 1STRESS  OF  MEN 

The  state  of  the  child's  mind  is  difficult  to  describe.  Abso- 
lutely innocent,  as  such  natures  as  hers  ever  are,  of  any  thought 
of  sex,  surprise  was  the  first  feeling;  then  anger.  What  right 
had  they  to  say  she  was  different  from  a  boy  ?  She  was  cleverer 
than  most  of  them,  of  course,  but  some  boys  doubtless  would 
be  cleverer  than  she  was.  She  did  not  put  it  in  so  many  words, 
but  she  felt  it  was  but  -a  difference  of  degree,  she  felt  that  she 
could  hold  her  own  alike  with  boys  and  girls. 

Then  she  wept  passionate  and  scalding  tears  of  resentment, 
and  her  whole  being  went  out  in  one  vast  "why?" 

"  It  is  a  lie,"  she  sobbed  vindictively.  "I'm  not  weaker 
than  Shaikie,  and  I  have  a  right  to  play  if  I  choose,  and  I  will." 

Her  mother,  however,  was  obdurate,  the  utmost  concession 
being  that  she  should  be  allowed,  if  she  was  very  meek  and  vir- 
tuous, as  befitted  one  entering  maidenhood,  to  sit  with  Auntie 
Rosebody  behind  the  screen  and  watch  the  boys  play. 

"Lo!"  cried  the  child  with  infinite  disdain,  "God  did  not 
make  me  to  be  a  caged  monkey  or  an  old  cat." 

So  she  sulked ;  but  Dilaram,  keen  of  observation,  noticed  a 
look  of  determination  grow  to  the  young  face. 

"  If  the  mistress  means  what  she  says,"  remarked  the  sturdy 
woman  to  Bibi  Azizan,  "she  had  best  take  steps.  Those  who 
mean  to  dance  don't  wear  veils.  Though  for  my  part  I  doubt 
me  if  there  be  a  pin's  choice  between  the  gadabouts  and  the 
cornered  ones  in  virtue.  And  as  for  character,  give  me  the 
former  !  The  potter  makes,  but  the  world  fills  !" 

So  on  the  eventful  afternoon  Mihr-un-nissa,  who  had  refused 
her  dinner  for  two  days,  was  shut  up  in  disgrace  with  hearth- 
cakes  and  water  in  an  empty  room. 

It  did  not  in  the  least  disconcert  her.  She  had  expected  it, 
had  even  made  her  plans — whether  with  devoted  Dilaram's  con- 
nivance or  not,  who  can  say  ? — to  escape  from  durance  vile.  A 
rope  lay  coiled  in  one  corner ;  she  was  agile  as  a  young  monkey, 
the  room  was  but  one  short  story  from  a  solitary  corner  of  the 
garden,  where  a  dense  thicket  of  pomegranates  would  have 
hidden  a  company  of  soldiers. 

Here  she  had  already  concealed  what  she  wanted,  and  ten 
minutes  after  the  house  had  emptied  for  the  "  tamasha,"  she 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  49 

had  reached  it.  Ten  minutes  more,  and  clad  in  some  of  her 
brother's  garments,  her  beautiful  long  hair  snipped  off  remorse- 
lessly by  the  ears,  and  her  fair  complexion  darkened  by  a  rub- 
bing of  red  Sikri  earth,  she  emerged,  as  bold  as  brass,  and 
made  her  way  to  the  Palace  of  the  Four  Winds. 

She  gave  her  younger  brother  Sharif's  name  to  the  door- 
keeper. It  was  a  deft  deceit,  for  the  boy,  being  delicate,  did 
not  often  join  in  the  Palace  plays,  and  was  not  therefore  easily 
recognized.  Thus  she  passed  in  unchallenged. 

It  was  a  brave  sight  indeed.  Crowds  of  boys  of  all  ages, 
with  the  Emperor  and  his  Ministers  looking  on,  and  a  tinkle  of 
jewels  and  high  laughter  from  the  latticed  corner,  where  she 
ought  to  be,  according  to  her  mother  ! 

Well,  she  was  here,  and  she  had  little  fear  of  detection,  for 
both  her  brothers  were  away  with  her  father  on  tour  for  a  day 
or  two.  One  or  two  of  her  playmates  looked  at  her  curiously, 
but  the  short  hair  and  darkened  complexion  ended  their  doubts. 
And  everyone  was  half  wild  with  excitement,  Mihr-un-nissa  most 
of  all. 

"  Look  at  yon  lad-ling  with  the  green  turban,"  said  Akbar  to 
Birbal.  "  He  outdistances  all  in  reckless  life.  He  should 
make  a  fine  soldier  by-and-by." 

Birbal 's  lip  curved.  "  He  should  make  something,  Most 
High.  What,  God  settles,  so  they  say ;  for  myself,  I  hold  it 
matters  naught  if  one  be  strong  or  weak,  timid  or  bold,  man 
or  woman,  so  long  as  one  has  brains  !" 

"Nay,  nay,  friend,"  laughed  Abul-fazl;  "woman  needs 
more  than  brains;  she  must  be  beautiful." 

Birbal  flashed  round  on  him.  "  Not  so  !  If  a  woman  has 
brains,  her  greatest  foe  is  beauty,  for  men  take  her  at  her  face 
value." 

' '  Look  !  Look  ! ' '  interrupted  the  Emperor,  pointing  to  the 
children,  who  were  now  playing  a  sort  of  blind  man's  buff. 
"  Green  turban  hath  challenged  Shaikie,  and  he  is  as  a  fish  in 
deep  water  for  slipperiness.  But  Shaikie  will  have  him  yet." 

And  truly  there  was  an  unwonted  air  of  determination  about 
blindfolded  Prince  Salim,  who,  having  had  the  tail  of  his 
turban  tweaked  with  an  impudent  imitation  of  a  sheep's  "  baa," 

4 


50  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

was  now  bound  to  catch  the  imitator,  who  in  his  turn  was  bound 
to  keep  on  bleating.  In  and  out,  round  about,  the  pair  ran, 
both  becoming  breathless,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  the  Emperor's 
prediction  as  to  his  son's  success  would  have  been  realized  within 
the  appointed  time  had  not  an  obsequious  courtier  put  out  his 
foot  and  so  brought  green  turban  to  the  ground.  Up  in  a 
second,  it  was  yet  too  late,  and  the  pursued  stood  captive. 

"Who  is  it,  Shaikie?"  said  the  Emperor,  delighted. 

The  young  Prince's  hand  sought  the  face  beneath  the  green 
turban. 

"  Mihr-un-nissa  ! "  he  said  instantly. 

A  roar  of  laughter  followed ;  even  the  Emperor  joined  in  it. 

"  Nay,  Shaikie,"  he  cried.  "  Thou  hast  made  a  mistake. 
Girls  are  not  admitted.  Try  again,  my  son  !" 

Shaikie 's  heavy  face  flushed  crimson;  he  tore  the  bandage 
from  his  eyes.  "  I  have  made  no  mistake,"  he  shouted  angrily. 
"It  is  Mihr-un-nissa — Mihr-un-nissa  in  boy's  clothes." 

A  faint  shriek  came  from  the  screened  corner  where  Bibi 
Azizan,  as  usual,  was  currying  favour  with  the  Court,  but  the 
rest  of  the  company  were  too  much  astonished  for  anything  save 
silence  as  they  crowded  round  the  culprit,  who  stood  calm, 
defiant. 

"  Yea,"  she  cried,  "  I  am  Mihr-un-nissa!  I  said  I  would 
do  it,  and  I've  done  it,  so  there  !" 

And  with  that  she  dived — verily  like  a  fish  in  deep  water 
for  slipperiness — under  Birbal's  very  arm,  and  was  off  and 
away  ere  anyone  could  stop  her. 

"Why  didst  let  her  through,  Birbal?"  asked  the  Emperor 
reproachfully. 

"Because  she  desired  it,  sire!"  he  replied,  and  Akbar 
laughed. 

Meanwhile,  .  Mihr-un-nissa,  unpursued — for  without  royal 
order  naught  could  be  done,  and  Bibi  Azizan  in  the  screened 
corner  was  helpless  for  the  time — flitted  through  the  gardens 
like  a  lapwing  guarding  its  nest,  covering  her  flight  from  thicket 
to  thicket.  And  as  she  ran  her  brain  was  busy.  If  she  went 
home  straight  to  the  women's  apartments,  her  mother  would 
find  her  at  once,  and  being  angry,  might  beat  her.  Better, 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  51 

therefore,  to  give  her  time  to  cool.  Her  father  being  absent 
for  the  day,  she  would  be  comparatively  safe  in  the  men's  side 
of  the  house,  which  would  likely  be  empty.  So  she  dashed  in 
through  the  tunnelled  archway  and  then  at  right  angles  to  a 
small  sunny  courtyard,  where,  to  her  surprise,  a  tall  youth  of 
about  eighteen  was  cleaning  his  matchlock.  He  sat  on  the 
stone  steps  of  the  inner  rooms,  and  at  his  feet  lay  a  brace  or  two 
of  black  partridge. 

He  nodded  his  head  carelessly. 

"  God  speed  thee,  cousin,"  he  said  good-humouredly.  "  I 
have  arrived  before  my  time.  Zaman  Shah  and  his  camels 
should  be  here  on  the  morrow ;  but  having  come  so  far  in  pursuit 
of  these,"  he  indicated  the  partridge  with  his  foot — "  I  deemed 
it  foolish  to  return  only  to  ride  the  same  road  again ;  so  I  have 
sent  the  servant  to  buy  food." 

Mihr-un-nissa  eyed  the  young  fellow  from  head  to  foot.  Very 
tall,  with  a  pleasant,  rather  ugly  face. 

"  So  you  are  the  cousin  from  Herat,"  she  said  slowly.  "  God 
speed  thee  !" 

The  lad  laughed.  "  Cousin,  as  God  will  !  I  know  not  if  it 
be  so  in  reality.  But  our  fathers  were  friends,  as  we  shall  be 
doubtless,  for  I  like  thy  looks,  though  thou'rt  most  too  pretty 
for  a  boy — should  be  a  girl."  And  he  fell  to  whistling  and 
frowning  over  his  work;  for  it  was  a  troublesome  job.  The 
matchlock  had  failed  to  go  off;  something  had  stuck  in  the 
channel  leading  from  the  powder-pan. 

Mihr-un-nissa  squatted  down  beside  him  and  eyed  him  again, 
this  time  almost  malevolently. 

"  Why  should  a  girl  be  pretty  and  a  boy  ugly?"  she  asked. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  God  knows  !  My  mother  was 
ugly,  and  she  is  the  dearest  woman  in  the  world ;  but  folk  say 
so  ever." 

"  Dost  thou  say  so?"  she  persisted. 

"  Why,  no  !"  he  replied  as  he  worked.  "  So  long  as  both  be 
good  company,  that  is  all  I  ask.  And  see  you  !  'Tis  the 
other  way  round  with  the  beasts  and  the  birds — the  cock  yonder 
hath  the  gayest  feathers." 

She  stroked  the  bright  plumage  gently,   thoughtfully.     "  | 


52  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

like  thee,  cousin,"  she  said  suddenly;  "  thou  hast  a  good,  ugly 
face!" 

His  laugh  was  long  and  loud  as  he  stood  up.  "  And  I  like 
thee,  cousin;  thou  hast  a  good,  pretty  one.  So  are  we  quits? 
And  now  thou  shalt  have  the  first  shot  of  thy  life,  for  the 
channel  is  clear,  and  I  would  fain  clean  the  barrel.  See  yonder 
black  crow  with  its  gaping  black  mouth.  It  deserves  to  die.  It 
hath  just  swallowed  a  young  squirrel.  So — let  me  hold  the 
weapon  too.  Be  not  afraid — 'twill  hurt  a  little,  mayhap,  but 
not  much." 

He  was  standing  over  the  slim  little  figure  which,  nothing 
loath  and  with  eager  inquisitiveness  in  its  eyes,  followed  his 
directing  hand. 

"  Hast  a  good  aim?     So  !     Now  pull  the  trigger " 

There  was  an  overloud  explosion,  and  the  flare  of  a  back-fire 
nipped  at  Mihr-un-nissa's  long  eyelashes.  Luckily,  the  recoil 
had  sent  her  flat  on  her  back. 

She  sat  up  wrathfully,  rubbing  her  shoulder,  but  tearless. 
"Wherefore  didst  that?"  she  asked  imperiously.  "Thou 
mightst  have  killed  me." 

"  Traa  !"  said  the  youth,  covering  his  relief  that  no  harm  had 
been  done  by  assumed  lightness.  "  That  sort  of  thing  does 
not  hurt  boys." 

Her  wrath  grew;  she  forgot  all  but  fact.  "  Traa  thyself  !  I 
am  not  a  boy,  but  a  girl — so  there  !" 

He  stood  and  stared  at  her  for  quite  a  considerable  time,  look- 
ing a  trifle  sheepish. 

"So,"  he  said  at  length,  "  thou  art  Mihr-un-nissa,  of  whom 
Zaman  Shah  boasts." 

But  the  mind  of  the  little  lass  had  drifted  to  a  bigger  matter 
to  her  than  the  question  of  sex.  "Did  I  kill  the  crow?"  she 
asked  anxiously. 

He  burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter.  "  Now  of  a  surety,"  he 
cried,  "  whether  thou  beest  Queen  o'  Women  or  a  boy,  and 
whether  I  be  Ali  Kul  the  God-sent  One  or  a  girl,  matters 
little — we  have  both  good  pluck — so  there  !" 


CHAPTER  V 

'  Love  passes  swift,  and  leaves  no  trace  behind. 
On  yonder  trellis,  swept  by  winter  wind, 
Who  knows  if  'twere  a  white  rose  or  a  red 
That  in  past  summers  clasped  and  clipped  and  twined  ?' ' 

MIHR-UN-NISSA'S  escapade  was  considered  by  her  mother  suffi- 
ciently serious  to  warrant  immediate  steps  being  taken  to  pre- 
vent any  possible  recurrence.  It  was  all  very  well  for  the  men 
to  laugh  over  it;  but  that  sort  of  thing  was  fatal  in  the  mar- 
riage-market. The  best  thing  for  the  girl's  future,  then,  was 
that  she  should  be  forgotten.  To  this  end,  therefore,  she  had 
better  be  sent  away  from  Agra.  Persia,  of  course,  where  all  her 
relations  lived,  was  too  far  off,  but  a  suitable  house  could  easily 
be  found  in  some  quiet  country  place  not  too  far  away  for 
vigilance,  whither  she  and  Dilaram  could  retire.  For  instance — 
and  here  Bibi  Azizan's  voice  dropped  to  a  confidential 
whisper — there  would,  she  felt  sure,  be  a  most  desirable  pos- 
sibility in  a  few  days.  It  was  an  open  secret  that  Khanzada 
Racquiya  Begum,  the  Emperor's  first  and  childless  wife,  had 
come  to  loggerheads  with  Maryam  Zamani,  the  heir  apparent's 
Hindu  mother,  over  her  insensate  spoiling  of  the  boy.  Doubt- 
less Khanzada  Racquiya,  as  undoubted  head  of  the  harem, 
would  have  held  her  own  had  not  Maryam  Makani,  the  boy's 
grandmother  (the  Emperor's  blessed  and  beloved  mother,  Hamida 
Banu  Begum),  sided  with  the  Hindus,  and  Auntie  Rosebody 
with  her  quick  tongue  been  betwixt  and  between.  Anyhow,  the 
Emperor,  who,  to  give  him  his  due,  was  always  doing  his  best 
for  peace,  had  permitted  Khanzada  Racquiya  to  retire  from 
Court  for  a  while  on  pretence  of  finishing  her  book  of  verses ; 
also  to  give  change  of  air  to  his  beloved  little  imp  of  a  daughter, 
Aram  Banu  Begum ;  though  why  anyone  should  care  for  a  child 
who,  though  but  five  years  old,  was  a  compound  of  unpoliteness 
and  impudence,  Heaven  only  knew.  Still,  Khanzada  Racquiya 

53 


54  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Begum  was  the  person  above  all  to  instil  moralities  and  manners, 
so,  if  she  would  consent  to  take  Mihr-un-nissa  as  companion 
to  the  little  Princess,  it  would  be  a  combination  of  educational 
advantage  with  just  that  slight  connection  with  the  Court  which 
might  be  useful  in  days  to  come. 

The  good  little  lady  nodded  and  becked  over  this  gossiping 
confidence,  and  poor  Ghiyass-ud-din  felt  that  it  would  be  waste 
of  breath  to  dispute  a  plan  which  in  truth  held  many  advantages ; 
for  he  did  not  want  his  little  daughter  to  have  much  to  do  with 
the  life  her  mother  led ;  a  life  which  was  made  up  of  pretty 
pettinesses.  Then,  even  his  short  experience  of  the  young  Herati 
Ali  Kuli  Khan  had  shown  the  father  that  here,  if  anywhere,  he 
would  find  Mihr-un-nissa  that  fitting  mate,  strong,  sensible, 
kindly,  straightforward,  which  he  desired  she  should  have;  and 
the  girl's  absence  from  home  would  not  only  give  him  more 
opportunity  for  seeing  into  the  lad's  character,  but  would  also 
make  it  easier  for  him  to  manipulate  the  vague  promise  of 
betrothal,  so  that  it  could  be  carried  out  if  necessary.  He  would 
thus  steal  a  march  on  his  wife  Bibi  Azizan's  objections,  which 
were  sure  to  be  vehement. 

As  for  Dilaram,  anything  which  would  give  her  full  and 
undivided  possession  of  her  heart's  darling  was  welcome.  This 
being  so,  and  Khanzada  Racquiya  Begum  approving,  the  plan 
was  carried  through,  and  ere  a  month  had  passed  little  Mihr- 
un-nissa  found  herself  seated  on  the  corner  bastion  of  a  high- 
walled  garden,  appraising  the  spot  where  she  had  come  to  live, 
and  finding  it  good.  And,  indeed,  few  folk  would  have  found 
fault  with  Gulabpur,  or  Rose-town. 

To  begin  with,  for  miles  and  miles  the  air  was  filled  with  the 
scent  of  the  roses  that  grew  in  long  set  lines  between  the  high 
cactus  hedges.  That,  however,  was  before  you  came  to  Rose- 
Garden  proper,  which  surely  was  the  most  wonderful  place  in 
the  world  !  Around  it  a  huge  hundred-acre  field  of  roses,  fenced 
about  with  an  impenetrable  twenty-foot  wall  of  prickly  pear; 
grey-green,  fleshy  leaves  and  pale  yellowish  and  pinkish  blos- 
soms, over  which  lemon-coloured  butterflies  and  metal -blue 
dragonflies  flickered,  and  flitted,  and  fluttered  all  day  long  in 
the  sunshine.  Then  the  sea  of  roses,  so  prim,  so  ordered  in 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  55 

their  lines,  with  a  water  runnel  between  each  six  rows ;  and  every 
bush  so  like  another  !  Grey-green,  velvety  leaves  all  set  thick 
with  Persian  pink  roses,  distractingly  sweet.  As  Mihr-un-nissa 
sat  dangling  her  legs  over  the  parapet  of  the  inner  wall,  she 
seemed  to  feel  the  perfume  with  her  toes.  Then  it  crept  up  and 
up  until  it  assailed  her  nose,  and  then,  of  course,  it  went  right 
up  into  the  sky,  right  away  where  Paradise  grows,  and  the  -peris — 
silly  useless  creatures  by  all  accounts — scented  themselves  with 
sandal-wood  oil,  as  if  the  flowers  were  not  enough  ! 

This  same  wall  was  a  favourite  spying  spot  of  the  child, 
partly  because  it  was  out  of  Dilaram's  reach,  and  it  annoyed 
her  nurse  ;.o  find  her  perched  beyond  her  grip  when  she  came 
toiling  after  her  charge  up  the  steep  one-foot-each-way  steps 
that,  built  flat  on  to  the  wall,  led  at  each  corner  of  the  garden 
to  a  little  cupolaed  bastion. 

"  God  keep  the  child  from  harm  !"  she  would  mutter,  breath- 
less, as  she  sank  down  overcome  on  the  ledge  of  the  eight-sided 
sort  of  birdcage  where  there  was  room,  at  most,  for  but  three 
persons  to  sit.  "A  wild  bird,  she,  who  will  never  be  caged; 
but  He  counts  even  the  crows,  they  say." 

Then  she  would  scold  and  wheedle  to  no  purpose  until  Mihr- 
un-nissa  was  tired  of  sitting  astride  the  wall  and  sniffing  the  rose 
scent.  It  was  quite  different  from  the  perfume  of  the  inner 
garden.  Khanzada  Racquiya  Begum  called  that  the  "Garden 
of  Roses  ' '  in  her  poetry ;  but  in  reality  it  held  every  sweet- 
scented  thing  you  could  imagine.  Lilies  and  jasmine,  orange- 
blossom  and  sweet  pandanus,  trumpet-flowers  and  bignonia 
creepers,  to  say  nothing  of  a  wonderful  unknown  tree  with  ugly 
greeny-brown  flowers  high  up  in  the  sky.  Lucky  it  was  so,  for, 
though  afar  their  perfume  was  entrancing,  quite  near  they  smelt 
horribly;  but  when  they  dropped  on  the  ground,  -pouf /  the  scent 
was  gone  from  them  at  once.  The  little  lass  used  to  gather 
them  up  sometimes,  and  hold  them  in  her  hand,  wondering  what 
sort  of  a  thing  scent  was,  and  whither  it  went. 

But  there  were  a  thousand  things  in  the  garden  to  excite  her 
young  imagination.  The  corner  palaces  all  floreated  within 
with  mirror  inlay.  The  marble  summer-house  in  the  centre 
shaded  by  lace-like  tracery,  the  lotus  pink  and  white,  in  the 


56  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

marble  water-courses  where  the  fountains  splashed.  Then  the 
water-maze  !  It  was  simply  heavenly  !  Even  Dilaram  could 
not  object  to  your  flying,  with  dancing  feet,  along  its  four-inch 
marble  footway  that  criss-crossed  and  angled  here,  there,  every- 
where, into  intricate  patterns,  with  shallow  squares  and  oblongs 
of  water  between  them. 

If  you  fell  in,  as  you  invariably  did,  she  had  to  pick  you  out 
and  dry  you,  since  the  water-maze  was  a  recognized  game  in  the 
highest  circles  of  virtue  and  seclusion. 

The  Khanzada  herself,  it  is  true,  did  not  attempt  it;  but 
that  was  because  she  was  slightly  lame.  Besides,  was  she  not 
a  poetess  ?  This  fact  inspired  Mihr-un-nissa  with  a  certain  awe 
and  a  great  admiration ;  for,  alive  to  her  finger-tips,  the  child 
reached  out  instinctively  to  all  things  new  in  both  the  material 
and  the  spiritual  world.  So  she  would  imperiously  haul  away 
her  small  companion,  Princess  Aram,  from  any  of  the  pleached 
alleys  in  which  they  came  upon  the  poetess  pacing  up  and  down 
in  a  fine  frenzy  of  composition. 

"  Hsh  !  Hsh  !"  she  would  say,  with  a  forceful  hand  on  the 
other's  mouth.  "  If  thou  willst  not  I  will  make  thee.  One 
should  never  interrupt  that  thou  canst  not  do  thyself.  And  God 
did  not  make  thee  poetess." 

"  Neither  did  He  make  thee,  stupid  !"  Aram  would  reply 
with  the  cosmopolitan  tu  quoque  of  childhood. 

And  Mihr-un-nissa  would  look  contemptuous.  "  Did  He 
not?  Who  knows?  I  could  if  I  would.  'Tis  all  '  fadala- 
toon-fadal-a-ta  ' ;  I  saw  it  in  her  book  !" 

"Traa!"  jibed  Princess  Aram.  "I  say  thou  couldst  not; 
for,  look  you,  she  is  my  aunt,  but  she  is  nothing  to  thee." 

This  was  conclusive,  for  the  time ;  but  after  a  while,  as  Mihr- 
un-nissa  sat  dangling  her  feet  over  the  sea  of  roses,  while  the 
sun  set  cloudless  behind  the  butterflies  and  the  dragonflies,  the 
music  of  beauty  began  to  surge  through  her  child's  brain,  and 
she  composed  a  quatrain — strictly  according  to  "  fadu-la-tun 
fadu-la-ta" — which  completely  disposed  of  the  little  Princess's 
argument;  at  any  rate,  in  Dilaram's  opinion.  She  was,  in  fact, 
so  elevated  by  her  darling's  cleverness  that  after  having  the  verse 
appropriately  flourished  out  by  the  children's  writing-mistress, 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  57 

she    carried    it — and    the    reluctant    yet    triumphant    composer 
thereof — to  the  Khanzada  herself  for  approval. 

Racquiya  Begum  put  on  her  horn  spectacles  and  read  as 
follows  : 

"  Under  my  toes  there  lies  a  sea  of  roses  ; 
Their  scent  comes  up  and  tickles  both  my  noses, 
Then  flies  away  to  feed  the  breath  of  God, 
Who  sends  it  down  again  to  feed  the  roses." 

Now  Khanzada  Racquiya  Begum  was  the  great  Emperor 
Baber's  granddaughter ;  therefore,  despite  her  old-maidish  ways, 
she  was  bound  to  have  two  things — humour  and  sympathy ;  so 
she  kept  her  smiles  kindly. 

"  The  idea,"  she  said,  "is  of  the  best.  All  poems  by  the 
young  should  contain  allusions  to  the  Creator,  since  love  is  not 
decorous  for  them.  But  noses  !  Nay,  child,  noses  are  not 
poetry." 

Mihr-un-nissa  flushed  visibly.  "Wherefore  not?"  she  pro- 
tested. "  God  made  them  as  well  as  the  roses;  and  He  must 
have  made  them  first.  To  what  purpose  scent  if  there  is  nothing 
to  smell  withal?" 

The  Khanzada  took  off  her  spectacles  and  looked  hard  at  the 
speaker.  She  saw  a  tall  lass  with  an  eager,  alert,  childish  face 
poised,  oval,  above  a  slender  throat. 

"  How  old  art  thou?"  she  asked.  "  But  seven?  Then  hast 
thou  time  for  many  things ;  and  methinks  thou  wilt  use  it  too. 
Meanwhile  '  noses  '  is  not  poetry,  neither  is  toes — or  toeses." 

The  joking  hint  of  a  possible  rhyme  was  too  much  for  Mihr- 
un-nissa 's  indignation.  She  burst  into  a  peal  of  silvery  laughter 
in  which  Racquiya  joined ;  and  this  was  the  beginning  of  a 
curious  friendship  between  the  vigorous  young  life  and  the  dis- 
appointed older  one,  which  lasted  till  the  latter  ceased  to  be. 

It  was  of  enormous  advantage  to  the  child,  for  Racquiya 
Begum  was  unusually  well  educated,  and  she  found  in  Mihr-un- 
nissa  a  pupil  who  bade  fair  to  overmatch  her  ere  long. 

"  She  is  worthy  all  that  can  be  given  her,"  said  the  Khanzada, 
when,  discreetly  veiled,  she  gave  audience  to  the  Lord  High 
Treasurer  when  he  came  to  inquire  of  his  little  daughter's  well- 
being.  "She  will  have  the  mind  of  a  man  in  the  body  of  a 


58  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

beautiful  woman.  That  will  make  life  somewhat  of  a  problem, 
so  I  would  teach  her  Euclidus  and  Aljabr  (mathematics  and 
algebra),  since  she  has  taste  that  way." 

"She  takes  it  from  me,  Highness,"  replied  the  gratified 
father.  "  Lo  !  with  permission,  I  will  send  an  ancient  master. 
He  can  live  in  the  village,  and  the  child  can  learn  in  the  Rose- 
Garden." 

So,  except  when  it  rained,  when  a  shrivelled  ancient-of-days 
was  permitted  as  a  favour  to  pass  through  the  inner  gate  and 
give  his  lessons  in  the  marble  summer-house  which  centred  the 
garden,  Mihr-un-nissa,  and  Dilaram,  of  course,  went  out  to  an 
arbour  amid  the  sea  of  roses,  where  the  child  learnt  solemnly 
that  two  parallel  lines  continued  for  ever-and-ever-a-day  will 
never  meet,  and  that  a  plus  b  may  equal  x  or  any  other  letter 
of  the  alphabet.  And  her  eyebrows,  with  their  faint  slant 
upwards  towards  the  nose — strange,  almost  invariable  sign  of 
great  beauty — would  slant  still  more,  giving  a  puzzled,  wistful, 
yet  eager  look  to  the  hazel  eyes  below,  and  she  would  argue, 
"  But  if  there  was  something  outside,  it  might  be  different." 

To  which  munshi-ji  would  reply  sententiously,  "  There  is 
nothing  outside,"  and  Dilaram  would  bid  her  not  ask  foolish 
questions,  but  learn  her  lesson  like  a  good  girl. 

So  months  passed  by.  In  the  next  season  of  roses  Bibi 
Azizan  came  out  to  visit  her  daughter,  and  was  simply  enchanted 
with  life  in  the  Garden  of  Roses — for  a  month  or  six  weeks  ! 
After  that  she  hungered  for  the  town  again.  But  while  the 
novelty  lasted  it  was  paradise.  To  rise  to  the  scent  of  roses, 
to  go  to  bed  with  it,  to  spend  the  day  eating  rose  comfits,  and 
watch,  from  a  marble  cupola,  roses  being  picked ;  sometimes, 
decorously  veiled,  to  go  down  gingerly  to  where  the  great  rose- 
water  stills  were  set  in  the  shade  of  tall  jamun  trees  and  have 
fresh,  still  warm,  rose-water  poured  over  hands  and  feet — this 
was  idyllic  !  Bibi  Azizan  waxed  enthusiastic  over  it,  though 
she  never  could  understand  Khanzada  Racquiya's  and  little 
Mihr-un-nissa's  regret  for  the  poor  yellow  residuum  of  roses 
that  was  left  when  the  sweetness  had  been  extracted  from  the 
petals.  Of  the  two  sympathizers,  the  child  was  the  keener. 
She  refused  to  have  any  rose-water  poured  over  her.  God  had 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  59 

given  the  perfume  of  the  rose  to  the  rose,  and  no  one  had  any 
right  to  take  it  away.  She  wanted  nothing  but  the  roses  them- 
selves ;  so  while  the  others  watched  the  distilling,  Mihr-un-nissa 
would  wander,  on  the  sly,  among  the  rose-beds;  much  to 
Dilaram's  alarm;  for  the  black  cobras  would  slip  out  at  dawn 
and  dusk  from  the  high  cactus  hedge  to  cool  themselves  and 
drink  in  the  runnels  of  water.  So  much  so  that  before  the  rose- 
picking  began,  the  dawn-bright  air  would  echo  to  the  hollow 
fluting  of  the  snake-charmer's  pipe  as  he  sat  half  asleep  against 
the  fence — one  to  each  long  side  of  the  square  they  had,  so  that 
"  nag-ji"  might  have  his  music  and  remain  at  home. 

But  Mihr-un-nissa  was  fearless,  and  in  troth  the  long  black 
ropes  of  things  fled  from  her  steps  as  a  rule. 

"  Yea,  yea,  she  is  safe  enough  from  them,"  muttered  a 
toothless  old  man  who,  they  said,  had  blown  his  pipe  in  the 
garden  for  years;  "  but  let  her  not  bring  the  infant's  rattle  she 
plays  with  at  times  with  her,  nurse-;'*'.  She  carried  it  the  other 
dawn,  and  lo  !  had  I  not  nigh  burst  my  lungs,  the  king  cobra 
would  have  slid  after  her." 

Dilaram,  who  had  been  listening  superciliously  to  the  old 
dodderer's  mumble,  sank  among  her  flouncing  skirts  all  of  a 
tremble. 

"What  knowest  thou?"  she  asked  fearfully.  "Art  thou 
the  Strangler  again?" 

"  Nay,  nay,  not  I,"  dissented  the  ancient  one.  "  I  am  only 
of  the  Bunglers;  yet  for  all  that,  this  slave  knows  a  charm 
when  he  feels  it." 

After  that  Dilaram  never  allowed  Mihr-un-nissa  to  carry  the 
rattle  into  the  Rose-Garden;  but  in  truth  the  child  was  not  so 
set  on  it  as  of  old,  and  only  asked  for  it  occasionally,  as  it  were, 
to  assure  herself  it  was  still  there. 

So  the  years  passed  on.  Sometimes,  for  a  month  or  two  she 
went  back  to  her  father's  home;  but  Bibi  Azizan,  in  her 
periodical  visitations,  found  all  so  satisfactory  that  the  ques- 
tion of  removing  the  child  altogether  never  arose.  In  fact,  the 
smart,  wily,  worldly  little  woman  began  to  trade  on  the  "  Rose- 
Garden  "  as  an  asset,  talking  of  it  to  her  fashionable  friends, 
and  declaring  town  life  would  be  intolerable  without  the  possi- 


60  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

bility  of  a  retreat  thither  and  a  return  to  country  occupations. 
And,  to  do  her  justice,  this  was  not  all  talk;  for  she  was  a 
notable  housewife,  and  many  were  the  conserves  and  pickles 
and  essences  of  which  she  supervised  the  making.  She  went 
further,  indeed,  and  actually  during  those  years  invented  the 
method  of  making  attar  of  roses  by  collecting  on  tiny  swabs  of 
cotton  the  oily  scum  that  rose  on  the  vast  vats  of  rose-water, 
and  afterwards  extracting  therefrom  an  almost  priceless  essence, 
one  drop  of  which  would  not  only  perfume  a  complete  suit  of 
clothes,  but  perfume  it  for  years  and  years. 

Even  Khanzada  Racquiya,  though  too  much  immersed  in 
intellectuals  to  care  for  such  mundane  things  as  scents,  gave  full 
meed  of  praise  to  Bibi  Azizan's  ingenuity ;  but  Mihr-un-nissa 
was  sternly  logical,  and  held  to  her  view  that  it  was  unkind  to 
take  away  the  scent  from  the  poor  flowers.  They  should  be 
allowed  to  remain  as  God  made  them. 

"  Traa  !"  declared  her  mother.  "  If  we  women  were  to 
remain  as  God  made  us,  without  falsities  and  cosmetics,  we 
should  be  ugly  indeed  !"  Then,  as  she  glanced  at  her  little 
daughter,  she  hesitated ;  for  here  was  an  exception  to  the  rule. 
For  the  little  maid  was  growing  increasingly  and  exceedingly 
fair,  and  about  her,  like  a  perfume  itself,  hung  charm  indescrib- 
able. There  was  a  dimple  in  her  cheek,  not  where  dimples 
usually  lurk,  but  higher  up,  closer  to  the  nose,  which  made  her 
smile  a  thing  never  to  be  forgotten.  Dilaram  would  sit  and 
gaze  at  her,  and  shake  her  head  in  a  sort  of  helpless  admiration, 
and  Zaman  Shah,  when  he  came  once  or  twice  to  see  the  little 
lass  whose  life  he  had  saved,  became  speechless  from  all  save 
Hafiz,  and  murmured  of  roses  and  thorns,  of  changeless  Love 
and  the  Dust  of  Chance,  while  Mihr-un-nissa  looked  at  him 
mysteriously  under  her  levelled  brows  and  played  with  the  white 
Persian  cat,  or  the  talking  mynah,  or  the  little  gazelle  fawn  he 
had  brought  her;  for  she  was  passionately  fond  of  animals. 
And  she  was  still  a  child,  though  she  was  nearing  her  twelfth 
year.  She  still  loved  to  sit  dangling  her  toes  over  the  sea  of 
roses,  though  she  had  given  up  straddling  the  wall  out  of 
deference  to  Racquiya  Begum,  who  told  her  she  was  too  tall  to 
wear  anything  but  maiden  dresses,  and  though,  by  this  time — 


M1ST1 

aving  a  distinct  taste  for  easy  versification — she  could  have 
written  quite  a  respectable  ode  to  the  beauty  of  Rose-town. 

So  life  passed  full  of  scent  and  savour,  till  one  evening,  as 
she  sat  perched  in  the  little  octagonal  bird-cage  of  a  bastion,  she 
espied  her  father  coming  up  the  roadway  which  led  to  the  great 
arched  gate  of  the  inner  garden.  She  would  have  called  wel- 
come to  him,  but  for  the  fact  that  he  was  accompanied  by  a  tall 
young  man  whom  in  an  instant  she  recognized  as  her  cousin  AH 
Kul.  She  had  not  seen  him  for  years,  but  there  was  no  mis- 
taking his  long  length  and  a  certain  merriness  of  feature,  even 
though  he  did  wear  a  bandage  over  his  left  temple  and  there  was 
an  ugly  streak  further  down  the  cheek.  He  must  have  been 
fighting ;  likely  enough,  since  he  was  a  captain  in  the  Emperor's 
service. 

Now  Mihr-un-nissa  knew  that  Dilaram  would  instantly  sum- 
mon her  to  meet  her  father,  whose  coming  was  indeed  one  of  the 
girl's  chief  pleasures,  but  when  she  saw  her  cousin  part  com- 
pany with  him  and  stroll  along  by  the  wall,  she  hastily  swung 
her  legs  inside,  slipped  down  behind  the  low  latticed  parapet 
until  only  the  very  top  of  her  head  was  visible  and  watched. 
Ali  Kul  was  evidently  admiring  the  roses  while  waiting  for  her 
father,  and  if  he  kept  on  as  he  was  doing,  he  must  pass  right 
under  her  perch.  And  she  was  consumed  with  curiosity  to  know 
how  he  had  hurt  himself.  So  she  disregarded  Dilaram's  calls, 
which  began  immediately  to  arise,  and  finally,  craning  over  the 
parapet,  said  in  a  silvery  whisper  : 

"  What  hast  done  to  thy  face,  cousin?" 

Ali  Kul,  mind  and  body  surcharged  with  the  sweetnesses  of 

the  roses,  looked  up  and  saw Most  likely  he  saw  the 

dimple. 

For  an  instant  he  stood  too  surprised  for  words ;  then  they  flew 
to  his  lips.  "  Mihr-un-nissa,  is  it  thou  really,  my  boy-girl 
cousin?" 

"Lo!"  she  replied  superbly.  "What  dost  matter  if  I  be 
boy  or  girl  ?  I  am  Mihr-un-nissa,  for  sure.  So  tell  me — 
how  didst  hurt  thy  face?  Hast  lost  an  eye?  Quick — they 
come  ! ' ' 

And  indeed  the  sound  of  a  heavy  body  breathlessly  ascending 


62 

the  narrow  stairs  became  audible,  accompanied  by  fitful  gasps 
of  indignation. 

"  Nay  !"  began  the  young  man  hastily,  "  my  eyes " 

"Oh,  waste  not  time  with  eyes,"  interrupted  the  questioner, 
dropping  her  voice  to  an  indignant  whisper;  "  who  cares  about 
your  eyes  ?  I  asked  who  did  it.  Quick  ! ' ' 

But  it  was  too  late.  Dilaram's  broad  face  showed  above  the 
level  of  the  bird-cage  floor,  and  the  culprit  had  to  wheel  round 
almost  ere  she  caught  the  one  word  "  Tiger,"  with  which  Ali 
Kul  fled  round  the  corner  as  for  dear  life. 

Dilaram  sat  herself  down  on  the  topmost  step  and  essayed  to 
be  sternly  composed  despite  her  lack  of  breath. 

"  Wast  talking  to  thyself,  child?"  she  asked. 

Mihr-un-nissa  had  drawn  her  veil  decorously  over  her  face, 
but  it  was  sparkling  with  mischief.  "  Nay,  nursie,"  she  replied 
coolly.  "I  was  asking  my  cousin  Ali  Kul  how  he  had  lost 
his  eye?" 

Dilaram  gave  a  little  shriek  and  beat  her  hands  over  her 
head.  "  Would  he  had  lost  both  ere  he  came  prying,"  she  said 
vindictively;  "and  he  is  not  thy  cousin,  nor  anything  to  thee 
at  all." 

Mihr-un-nissa 's  eyebrows  levelled  themselves  to  a  frown. 
:i  He  can  be  my  husband,  anyhow,  if  I  choose,"  she  remarked, 
as,  skipping  lightly  over  Dilaram's  big  body,  she  flew  like  a 
mountain  fawn  down  the  perilous  stairs. 

She  was  sitting  on  her  father's  knee,  cuddling  close  to  him, 
ere  Dilaram  arrived,  and  the  latter,  despite  her  indignation,  h?d 
not  the  heart  to  disturb  the  family  group  by  a  recitation  of  the 
enormity  that  had  been  committed.  The  more  so  because  the 
good  man  was  in  full  swing  over  the  tale  of  his  favourite  Ali 
Kul's  prowess,  to  which  Mihr-un-nissa  was  listening  somewhat 
disdainfully. 

"  Lo !  child,"  reproved  Ghiyass-ud-din.  "Even  if  'twas 
but,  as  thou  sayest,  a  tiger,  and  though  Heaven  be  praised,  he 
hath  not  lost  an  eye,  yet  'twas  a  brave  deed ;  for  look  you,  the 
Prince  was  in  danger  from  the  savage  brute  when  Ali  Kul 
turned  on  it  with  bare  arms  and  a  stick.  Yea,  and  when  the 
stick  broke  and  both  arms  were  bitten  through,  he  struck  it  on 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  63 

the  jowl  with  his  bare  fist  and  gripped  it  by  the  throat,  so  that 
they  rolled  over  and  over  together  like  two  wrestlers.  So, 
through  being  too  near,  the  savage  beast  could  use  neither  claws 
nor  teeth,  and  fear  fell  upon  it.  And  doubtless  Ali  Kul  would 
have  strangled  it  had  not  consciousness  left  him.  Whereupon 
the  tiger  gladly  left  him  lying  and  made  off." 

Mihr-un-nissa's  disdain  had  gone;  her  eyes  were  shining. 
"Did  it  get  away?"  she  asked  almost  in  a  whisper. 
"Nay!"  replied  her  father;   "and  here  comes  in  courage. 
For  Ali  Kul,  regaining  sense,  followed  it  and  brought  it  to  bay 
once  more,  holding  it  so  until  others  came  up  to  despatch  it. 
'Twas  a  brave  deed." 

The  little  lass  upon  his  knee  said  nothing,  but  that  evening  as 
she  sat  holding  her  knees  tight  to  her  chin  after  eating  her 
supper,  she  suddenly  announced  :  "  When  I  marry  I  shall  marry 
a  brave  man." 

Dilaram,  outraged,  scolded  her  best,  but  it  was  the  beginning 
of  a  new  outlook  on  life  for  Mihr-un-nissa.  She  was  not  always 
at  play  now.  Sometimes  she  would  sit  and  dream  for  hours, 
and  nothing  pleased  her  more  than  to  learn  by  heart  the  versicles 
of  Hafiz,  or,  with  Khanzada  Racquiya  Begum's  help,  to  imitate 
them ;  for  the  embargo  on  love  in  favour  of  the  Creator  had  been 
withdrawn. 

So  the  day  of  departure  from  the  Garden  of  Roses  came  when 
she  was  nigh  fourteen.  At  this  time  she  herself,  nurtured  amid 
scent  and  colour,  sweetness  and  beauty,  was  like  some  fragrant 
bud  about  to  open.  If  all  who  saw  her,  even  when  youth  had 
passed,  are  agreed  upon  her  extreme  beauty,  she  must  indeed 
have  been  a  "  sight  for  sair  een  "  as  she  sat  for  the  last  time 
in  the  birdcage  cupola  overlooking  the  sea  of  roses. 

It  was  dawn,  for  she  had  spent  a  wakeful  night  thinking  of 
the  new  world  of  men  and  women  into  which  she  was  about  to 
step,  and  with  the  first  blink  of  light  she  had  stolen  up  for  a 
last  look  on  the  world  she  was  leaving. 

The  sky  was  clear  as  a  topaz ;  not  a  cloud.  The  great  cactus 
hedges,  devoid  of  their  flickering  satellites,  showed  pearly-tinted. 
It  was  still  so  dark  that  in  the  sea  of  roses  the  grey-green  leaves 
seemed  to  obliterate  with  shadow  the  pale  pink  of  the  flowers. 


64  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

But  all  was  so  still,  so  soundless,  that  you  could  hear  the  faint 
bursting  of  the  rosebuds  as  they  opened.  It  was  just  a  sigh — 
less  than  a  whisper — telling  of  an  entry  into  the  lists  of  beauty. 

Mihr-un-nissa  held  up  her  hand  instinctively  to  listen. 

As  she  did  so,  the  little  lacquered  cup  with  which  she  had 
played  as  a  child,  and  which  for  the  last  day  or  two  she  had 
insisted  on  carrying  about,  slipped  from  her  slender  wrist  and 
fell  into  the  sea  of  roses  below.  She  craned  over  to  trace  its 
course  if  possible ;  but  she  could  see  nothing — nothing,  unless 
that  shadowy  rope  of  a  thing  was  a  black  cobra.  What  matter  ? 
When  day  came  Dilaram  would  go  and  find  it. 

And  sure  enough,  when  that  good  soul  heard  of  the  loss,  she 
was  for  searching  at  once.  Vaguely,  at  the  back  of  her  mind, 
the  orthodox  Mahomedan  woman  credited  the  fogi's  cup  with  all 
sorts  of  heathenish  sorceries  that,  impious  though  they  were, 
still  brought  luck,  and  she  was  determined  her  darling  should  not 
be  deprived  of  it ;  especially  now  when  womanhood  awaited  her. 

So  she  ambled  forth  on  the  sly,  taking  tent  to  her  steps  when 
she  neared  the  place  by  reason  of  the  old  snake-charmer's  caution 
regarding  the  attraction  the  toy  had  for  snakes. 

And  sure  enough,  just  under  the  cupola's  bastion,  coiled 
round  something  like  a  bird  upon  its  nest,  was  a  huge  black 
cobra.  She  had  to  summon  up  courage  to  curse  it  solemnly  in 
God's  name  and  her  best  Arabic;  but  it  obeyed  the  mandate  of 
the  Most  High,  and  slid  away. 

Dilaram,  coming  up  to  see  what  it  had  held  so  precious,  sat 
down  helplessly  in  sheer  surprise.  For  there  lay,  like  a  broken 
shell,  a  lacquered  mould,  as  it  were,  of  the  red  crystal  cup  that 
lay  beside  it !  She  took  it  up  curiously.  Was  it  crystal,  or 
could  it  be  a  real  ruby  cut  to  cup  shape?  She  could  not  tell. 
But  it  was  the  child's,  and  no  one  else  must  have  it.  Yes,  it 
was  the  child's;  for  there  lay  its  hiding-place,  which  must  have 
been  broken  by  the  fall. 

Did  this  explain  the  desire  of  the  split-ears  and  the  long- 
haired to  get  it?  Was  it  really  ruby,  therefore  without  price? 
Or  was  it  also  talisman  and  luck-bringer  ?  Both,  maybe.  Any- 
how, it  was  the  child's.  Yet  if  it  was  given  to  her,  and  if  it 
proved  valuable,  it  would  be  taken  away  from  her. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  65 

Half  an  hour  afterwards,  Dilaram,  all  grunts  and  grumblings, 
gave  back  to  its  owner  a  little  lacquered  cup,  bidding  her  be  sure 
and  not  lose  it  again,  since  in  the  rinding  of  it  she,  Dilaram, 
had  nigh  been  bitten  by -a  cobra. 

Mihr-un-nissa  took  it  carelessly.  "  Why  didst  trouble, 
nursie?  I  could  do  without  it  better  than  without  thee." 

And  she  threw  it  aside  with  a  laugh.  Dilaram  chuckled  to 
herself  as  she  went  off.  The  child  knows  by  instinct  'tis  false ; 
so,  the  real  is  lalismdn,  for  sure.  And  she  holds  it  firm  through 
me,  who  would  give  my  heart's  blood  for  one  breath  of  her 
body!" 


CHAPTER  VI 

"  The  clamorous  cry  of  birth  is  but  the  Voice 
Of  Self's  command  ;   '  Set  wide  the  Door  of  Choice, 
That  I  may  enter  !     I,  and  I  alone, 
Choose  that  for  which  I  sorrow  or  rejoice.' 

"  Oh  Foolish  One !     Know  that  the  Door  of  Choice 
Opes  not  for  you  or  me.     Long  since  a  Voice 
Bid  it  be  shut  or  open  at  His  Will 
Who  sends  man  tears,  or  bids  his  heart  rejoice." 

PRINCE  SALIM  was  fighting  quails  in  the  topmost  story  of  the 
Palace  of  the  Four  Winds,  where  he  had  so  often  played  as  a 
child.  It  was  given  over,  as  it  had  been  then,  to  his  desires  and 
delights ;  and  they  were  not  all  innocuous.  A  big,  handsome, 
lazy-looking  lad  of  sixteen,  he  lay  on  an  embroidered  quilt 
watching  with  yawning  indifference  the  savage  fury  of  the  brave 
birds  pitted  against  each  other. 

"  'Tis  three  to  '  Cock-o' -the- Walk/  "  said  Lala,  the  Prince's 
most  intimate  companion,  as,  with  a  feeble  flutter,  one  of  the 
combatants  fell  over  on  its  side,  spent  to  death,  while  the  con- 
queror gave  shrill  cries  of  victory. 

The  Prince  frowned.  "Match  him  with  *  War-King  ' — 'tis 
the  best  bird  we  have,  and  the  upstart  needs  a  lesson." 

The  hot  air  seemed  to  quiver;  the  quail  in  the  hooded  cages 
echoed  the  cry  of  conquest ;  the  tiny  victor,  breathless  but  com- 
placent, strutted  up  and  down  the  white  cloth  that  was  spread 
for  the  fight — it  was  spotted  with  blood — and  waited  for 
renewed  fray. 

But  this  was  a  very  different  antagonist,  older  by  a  year, 
sleeker  in  plumage,  knowing  the  ways  of  warfare.  Over- 
matched from  the  beginning,  the  younger  bird  fought  desper- 
ately, helplessly,  and  a  roar  of  reckless  laughter  from  the  group 
of  lads  who  were  watching  the  "rune  followed  on  a  sudden 

66 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  67 

spring  which  brought  it  to  the  ground,   fluttering  in  surprise. 
But  at  the  same  time  a  grave  voice  came  from  behind. 

"Art  not  ashamed,  Shaikie,  to  lounge  idle,  watching  God's 
creatures  suffer  for  thy  amusement?" 

Prince  Salim  rose  sullenly ;  it  was  his  father,  the  Emperor 
Akbar. 

"  Death  is  the  right  of  all,  sire,"  he  replied,  not  without  wit. 

"  Ay,"  retorted  his  father  sharply ;  "  but  death  as  God  sends 
it,  not  as  man.  Of  a  truth,  wonder  holds  me  how  thou  canst 
be  son  of  mine  to  take  pleasure  in  such  cruelties." 

He  pointed  to  the  beaten  bird,  whose  blood  flowed  freely  from 
the  vicious  wounds  given  by  the  silver  spurs  worn  by  its 
antagonist.  Akbar 's  scorn  grew  as  he  marked  that  the  younger 
bird  was  not  so  armed. 

"Lo!"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  thunder.  "Such  is  not 
sport — it  is  devil's  work." 

The  bird,  all  its  courage  gone,  fluttered,  reeled  round,  died ; 
and  Akbar,  waiting  for  no  further  excuse,  strode  away.  This 
boy  of  his  was  at  once  his  pride  and  his  grief;  for,  spoilt  from 
his  earliest  day>  Salim  was  anything  but  a  satisfactory  heir  to 
Empire.  And  yet,  mayhap,  he  was  nearer  to  his  father's 
estimate  of  what  that  heir  should  be  than  Akbar,  ever  sensitive 
to  the  least  failure,  was  willing  to  allow.  At  any  rate,  he  cut 
short  the  somewhat  ribald  receipt  accorded  by  his  companions 
to  his  father's  words  with  a  round  curse,  seized  the  strutting 
victor,  wrung  its  neck,  and  flung  its  body  far  from  him;  then 
gave  curt  orders  to  the  attendants  to  do  likewise  to  every  occu- 
pant of  the  hooded  cages. 

"  His  Majesty  cannot  again  say  that  the  death  I  deal  is  not  as 
merciful  as  the  Creator's,"  he  remarked  amid  the  silence  which 
had  fallen,  alike  from  bird  and  human  voices. 

"  I  will  have  quail-curry  for  supper,"  quavered  the  profes- 
sional buffoon  of  the  party ;  but  Prince  Salim  sat  glum. 

In  truth,  his  whole  habit  was  sullenness.  Like  all  spoilt 
natures,  he  seemed  to  have  a  quarrel  with  fate.  Selfish,  yet 
dissatisfied  at  self,  he  viewed  all  things  with  reference  to  him- 
self, so  found  small  pleasure  in  them;  not  even  the  adulation 
showered  on  him  by  a  certain  Court  faction  which  honestly  held 


68  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

that  the  lad  would  make  a  better  ruler  than  the  present  ascetic 
occupant  of  the  throne,  who  would  wink  at  no  injustice,  no 
malfeasance,  and  was  not  to  be  bribed  by  luxury  and  pleasure. 

In  truth,  the  Court  was  at  variance  over  the  young  Prince, 
especially  .in  regard  to  his  on-coming  marriage  with  a  Hindu 
bride. 

Auntie  Rosebody,  to  whom  the  Emperor  sometimes  listened 
when  he  would  listen  to  none  else,  protested  against  this,  almost 
with  tears  in  her  silvery  voice.  "  Nay,  nephew,"  she  urged, 
"  a  truce  to  policy  !  'Tis  doubtless  well  to  '  grind  millet  and 
sing  the  song  of  wheat '  if  you  can  impose  upon  folk,  but  to 
give  the  boy  a  Hindu  to  wife  because  'tis  advisable  for  Empire 
that  Rajput  and  Mahomedans  be  friends  is  rank  foolishness. 
See  you,  the  torch-bearer  sees  not  his  own  steps,  so  I,  his  ancient 
aunt,  tell  the  Emperor  full  plain  that  he  is  wrong.  All  God's 
strength  is  truly  not  put  into  one  man's  body,  but  inside  and 
out,  that  man's  body  is  his  own.  So  give  the  lad  a  wife  of 
his  own  faith,  who  will  knowr  how  to  hold  him.  These  Rajput 
maidens  are  high-spirited,  I  grant,  but  they  know  naught  of 
our  etiquette — and  care  not  for  it  neither.  And  Salim  needs 
etiquette  to  keep  him  straight." 

Her  wisdom,  or  unwisdom,  was,  however,  lost  upon  Akbar, 
who  had  laid  his  plans  and  meant  to  keep  to  them,  though 
others  besides  Auntie  Rosebody  objected  strenuously.  The 
Prince  himself  sided  with  neither  party.  In  truth,  he  was  not 
much  interested  in  the  coming  marriage  except  as  an  opportunity 
for  greater  licence  in  the  drinking  of  wine  and  the  eating  of 
sweets ;  in  fact,  he  met  the  coarse  jesting  of  his  boon  comrades 
over  his  coming  nuptials  with  a  sullen  recommendation  to  mind 
their  own  business ;  it  was  nothing  to  him. 

Despite  this  aloofness  of  the  principal  party,  intrigue  was 
rife,  especially  in  the  Mahomedan  harem,  where  Bibi  Azizan 
held  an  assured  position  as  general  newsmonger.  It  needed  but 
a  little  deft  management  to  show  herself  the  unbiassed  partisan 
of  other  people's  daughters.  "Lo!"  she  would  say  with 
unction,  "  I  am  told  the  Xawab  of  Futtehgarh  hath  a  daughter 
of  incomparable  beauty,  and  he  is  Syyed  too  !  What  more 
suitable?"  And  all  the  while  she  knew  that,  charm  for  charm, 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  69 

beauty  for  beauty,  wit  for  wit,  there  was  no  maid  in  all  Islam  to 
touch  Mihr-un-nissa,  her  daughter. 

But  the  girl  was  difficult.  Taken  to  Court,  she  would  not 
show  to  advantage.  "  Let  me  be,  amma-jdn,"  she  said  as  she 
played  with  a  litter  of  Persian  kittens.  "  I  care  not  to  rub  my 
forehead  in  the  dust  before  the  Beneficent  Ladies.  They  are 
good  and  kind,  but  they  love  me  not,  and  I  love  them  not — save 
dear  Aunt  Rosebody,  who  laughs  at  me,  and  I  laugh  at  her. 
Lo  !  I  could  sit  at  her  skirts  for  hours,  she  is  so  comic." 

Bibi  Azizan  sighed  as  patiently  as  she  could.  "  'Tis  not 
manners  to  call  a  high-born  one  comic,"  she  replied  firmly.  "  But 
there  !  Water  runs  off  a  bald  head,  and  teaching  runs  off  thine. 
Thou  wilt  not  understand  till  thou  art  married,  so  we  must  see 
to  it  without  delay." 

This  vague  threat  was  held  over  the  girl's  head  like  any  sword 
of  Damocles ;  but  she  took  no  heed  to  it.  Once,  indeed,  she  had 
retorted  that  her  father  would  have  to  be  consulted,  and  that  he 
would  most  likely  choose  his  favourite  Ali  Kul ;  but  this  had 
only  produced  hysterics  in  Bibi  Azizan  and  bread  and  water  for 
herself,  so  in  future  she  simply  sat  and  smiled.  And  in  truth, 
the  astute  little  lady  had  no  intention  of  marrying  Mihr-un-nissa 
to  any  of  the  numerous  aspirants  whose  mothers  decorously 
approached  the  subject  of  betrothals. 

"  The  child  is  over  young,"  she  replied.  "  In  high  Persian 
families  'tis  not  the  custom  to  marry  early,  and  the  Neean,  her 
father,  being  princely,  will  not  hear  of  it." 

So  she  set  them  aside,  while  in  a  hundred  tentative  ways,  by  a 
thousand  tentative  words,  she  was  insinuating  to  the  innermost 
Court  circles  that  it  would  be  quite  easy  to  find  a  suitable  bride, 
and  so  prevent  the  beauty  and  youth  of  the  young  Prince  from 
being  sacrificed  to  his  father's  ambitious  aims.  She  even  per- 
suaded that  honest  man,  her  husband,  into  broaching  the  subject 
to  Rajah  Birbal,  the  Emperor's  confidential  friend ;  from  whom, 
however,  he  got  small  sympathy,  since  Birbal  was  renowned  for 
sterling  common  sense. 

"  Look  you,"  he  said,  "  were  the  youth  in  love,  or  did  he  even 
show  inclination  that  way,  I  might  cry  halt,  since  love  is  a  master, 
and  the  lad  needs  mastering.  But,  as  I  judge,  he  is  not  made 


7o  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

that  way.  He  drinks,  he  gambles,  he  plays  fast  and  loose  as 
he  chooses,  and  he  is  sullen  as  a  crocodile.  But  women  touch 
him  not,  and  one  is  as  good  as  another,  so  be  she  is  fair  and 
comely ;  and  that  this  Rajput  maid  is  said  to  be.  This  being 
so,  and  the  marriage  pleasing  the  Most  High,  I,  for  one,  am  for 
letting  an  eldest  son,  like  a  bad  penny,  be  useful  for  once." 

And  the  memory  of  his  own  dissolute  spendthrift  darkened  the 
Minister's  face ;  for  Lala,  the  chief  of  Prince  Salim's  evil  com- 
panions, was  Birbal's  son — his  only  son. 

Ghiyass-ud-din  came  away  from  the  conversation  discouraged ; 
but  Bibi  Azizan  received  the  report  of  it  gladly,  for  it  gave  her 
an  idea — a  bold  one,  a  dangerous  one,  but  one  worth  trying  if 
it  could  be  compassed. 

"  Leave  all  to  me,  Bibi,"  said  Dilaram  succinctly  when  she 
was  consulted.  "  What  use  is  a  duenna  if  she  cannot  conduct 
a  clandestine  interview  ?  Leave  it  to  me,  I  say,  and  if  I  manage 
not — ay,  and  without  talk — weave  my  shroud." 

And  in  reality  it  was  simplicity  itself.  Mihr-un-nissa,  accus- 
tomed to  outdoor  life,  had  the  run  at  certain  times  and  seasons  of 
that  self-same  garden  where,  long  years  before,  the  eighteen- 
months-old  child  had  held  out  a  crimson  rose  for  the  Emperor 
Akbar  to  smell.  What  more  easy  then  for  Dilaram  to  take  her 
charge  there  at  an  unauthorized  time?  \Vhat  more  easy  than  to 
find  out  when  the  Prince  was  likely  to  be  there  ? 

However  managed,  by  what  underhand  conniving,  by  what 
bribes,  certain  it  is  that  one  sun-setting,  Mihr-un-nissa,  dis- 
creetly veiled  in  the  usual  thick  creamy  veil  worn  by  all  women 
when  out  of  doors,  was  left  for  a  moment  or  two  sitting  beside 
a  fountain  while  Dilaram,  apologetic,  hurried  off  on  a  forgotten 
errand. 

The  girl,  more  independent  than  most  of  her  age  and  station, 
was  nothing  loath.  The  garden  was  full  of  scent  and  flowers, 
the  fountain  splashed  and  made  little  rippling  of  wrinkles  over 
the  fair  young  face  reflected  in  the  water.  It  set  her  laughing, 
then  dreaming  of  the  quaint  disaster  which  seems  so  impossible 
to  the  young — her  own  old  age,  when  she  would  indeed  be 
\vrinkled.  And  what  would  have  happened  in  the  interval? 
For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  realized  that  perpetual  youth 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  71 

ras  hers  indeed,  that  as  woman  she  was  custodian  of  the  immor- 
tality of  the  race.  So  to  her  dreaming  came  an  imperious  voice  : 

"  Hold  my  birds  !     I  am  tired  of  them." 

She  looked  up  to  see  a  tall  lad,  heavy  of  brow  and  face. 
Instinctively  she  shrank  back,  pulling  her  veil  forward ;  but  the 
birds — two  doves — were  already  transferred  from  his  wrist  to  her 
lap,  their  owner  had  turned  away,  and  she  could  but  hold  them 
as  desired.  In  truth  the  task  was  less  distasteful  than  it  might 
have  been,  since,  with  her  instantaneous  recognition  that  the  lad 
was  none  other  than  the  Prince  heir-apparent,  Mihr-un-nissa 
became  eager  for  adventure.  Yes,  that  was  Shaikie,  her  play- 
mate. Memories  of  past  supremacy  swept  in  upon  her ;  she  saw 
herself  domineering  over  the  indolent,  passionate,  but  good^ 
natured  boy — he  did  not  look  so  good-natured  now  ! 

In  truth,  at  the  moment  Prince  Salim  was  in  a  very  evil  tem- 
per. He  had  covered  his  half-hearted  shame  and  angry  retalia- 
tion on  the  fighting  quails  by  a  heavy  drinking-bout. 

He  had  a  sore  head,  possibly  a  sore  heart,  though  he  would 
have  laughed  the  insinuation  to  scorn.  He  had  refused  to  join 
his  boon  companions  and  had  chosen  solitude  in  the  garden. 
Having  failed  to  amuse  himself  with  his  pets,  he  was  now  trying 
to  get  pleasure  by  ruthlessly  picking  flowers  and  flinging  them 
away  after  one  short  second  of  possession.  To  no  purpose,  for 
everything  seemed  savourless  to-day,  and  he  was  back  before  the 
crouched  up,  shrouded  figure,  so  slender,  so  childlike  in  its 
outlines,  demanding  his  doves  again. 

But  there  was  only  one.  The  other  had  escaped  from  Mihr- 
un-nissa's  listless  hold,  and  was  now  cooing  its  delight  at  free- 
dom from  a  neighbouring  orange-tree. 

The  lad's  face,  still  sodden  with  last  night's  debauch,  dark- 
ened at  the  sight ;  his  eyes,  too  engrossed  with  self  for  quick 
observation  of  others,  saw  nothing  but  his  loss. 

"  Only  one?"  he  queried  angrily,  sharply. 

The  reply  came  as  sharply,  with  as  much  arrogance  but  with- 
out the  anger. 

"  Ay,  my  lord  !     One  has  flown  away — yonder." 

The  calmness  of  the  answer  roused  his  instant  passion. 

"  Fool  !"  he  cried.     "How?" 


72  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

He  spoke  as  he  was  accustomed  to  speak  to  man,  woman,  or 
child ;  since,  save  his  father,  there  was  none  in  the  land  to  whom 
he  owed,  or  chose  to  give,  courtesy.  But  in  the  slender  girl  he 
met  more  than  his  match. 

"  Ho\v?"  she  echoed,  and  her  voice  was  disdain  itself  as  she 
rose  swiftly  and  flung  out  her  arms.  "  So,  my  lord  !"  she  said 
superbly,  defiantly,  as  the  remaining  dove,  thus  loosed,  flew  to 
join  its  mate.  In  her  quick  uprising  the  thick  veil  had  fallen 
from  head  and  shoulders  leaving  her  free,  ablaze  with  indigna- 
tion, beautiful  exceedingly. 

There  was  no  sound  save  the  happy  cooing  of  the  doves  as 
Prince  Salim  stared  helplessly  at  what  he  saw.  It  was  daintiness 
incarnate,  a  creature  instinct  wyith  life,  fulfilled  with  all  that 
makes  life  perfect,  noble,  worthy ;  and  every  atom  of  good  that 
was  in  him  followed  his  eyes,  every  atom  of  his  coming  manhood 
held  out  its  hands  to  her — the  one  woman  in  the  world  for  him. 

A  moment  in  a  million  !  Love  at  first  sight ;  most  mysterious 
of  all  things  on  God's  earth. 

"  Mihr-un-nissa  !"  he  said  in  a  low  voice  at  last.  "Yea, 
surely  thou  art  Mihr-un-nissa,  Queen  of  Women  !" 

Truly  the  mind,  as  it  travels  over  the  lad's  subsequent  life, 
cannot  help  wonder  as  to  what  that  life  might  have  been  had  the 
love  which  came  to  him  that  sunsetting  in  the  "  Garden  of  Scat- 
tering Gold,"  been  throughout  the  long  years  their  guiding  star; 
for  it  was  Love  intangible,  unspeakable,  as  it  is  known  but  to 
few,  and  they  seldom  of  God's  best. 

Anyhow,  it  was  a  moment  in  a  million  millions,  in  which  his 
past  seemed  to  slip  from  him,  leaving  him  alone  with  her,  while 
the  skies  flamed  red  with  the  dying  of  day,  and  the  bewildering 
scents  of  the  garden,  outwearied  by  the  caresses  of  the  sun,  filled 
the  air. 

But  the  moment  came  and  went,  leaving  Mihr-un-nissa  coldly 
critical,  if  a  trifle  startled  by  the  look  which  came  to  the  lad's 
eyes,  reddened  though  they  were  by  last  night's  carouse.  Yet 
she  spoke  kindly  enough. 

"  Yea,"  she  replied.  "I  am  Mihr-un-nissa,  thine  ancient 
playmate.  And  thou  art  Mahomed  Salim,  whom  we  called 
Shaikie.  God  speed  thee  well,  my  lord  !" 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

And  with  that  she  gathered  up  her  veil  in  stately  fashion  and 
irned  to  go  with  dignity.  But,  seeing  Dilaram  emerge  from  a 
pomegranate  thicket  hard  by  (where,  Heaven  save  the  mark  ! 
she  had  been  hiding  all  the  time,  ready,  if  needs  be,  to  come  to 
the  rescue),  a  sudden  desire  for  safe  shelter  with  another  woman 
overtook  her,  and  she  flew  like  any  fawn  towards  the  duenna, 
leaving  Prince  Salim,  his  soul  in  his  eyes,  too  bewildered  by  what 
had  befallen  him  for  speech  or  action.  Possibly,  had  he  known 
how  persistent  this  was  to  be,  had  he  guessed  that  it  was  to  last 
till  the  hour  of  death  itself — ay,  and  beyond  death  doubtless — 
he  would  have  been  more  bewildered  still. 

Meanwhile,  the  first  glance  at  Dilaram's  face,  whence  radiance 
would  not  be  dismissed,  told  the  shrewd  girl  something  of  the 
truth ;  but  with  characteristic  comprehension  she  said  nothing 
until,  seated  in  the  cool  quiet  of  her  own  balcony,  she  had  the 
delinquent  face  to  face  and  eye  to  eye,  without  possibility  of 
interference. 

Then  she  rounded  on  her  calmly. 

'  Thou  and  amma-jdn  art  fools  and  noodles  thus  to  try  and 
deceive.  Yet  I  grant  'twas  well  prepared.  And  my  veil  slipped 
to  a  nicety.  What  didst  tie  to  it  to  make  it  so  heavy?"  And 
she  held  up  one  corner,  where  a  distinct  bulge  showed  carefully 
knotted  up  in  Indian  fashion. 

Dilaram  caught  at  it.  "  Nay,  child,  'tis  nothing — 'tis  but 
sand.  Give  it  me,  heart's  darling.  Lo  !  'twas  not  for  heaviness — 
I  swear  'twas  not,"  she  cried;  "  'twas  only  for  luck!" 

Mihr-un-nissa's  face  was  almost  malevolent  in  its  acuteness. 
"  Is  sand  luck?"  she  asked.  "  'Tis  the  first  I've  heard  of  it. 
Besides,  'tis  hard."  And  all  the  while  her  deft  fingers  were 
busy  over  the  knot. 

Dilaram  tried  whimpering.  "  Thou  hast  no  right  to  say  such 
things.  Thou  hast  no  right  to  suspicion  me — and  thy  mother — 
oh,  fie  ! — so  foully.  It  was  chance,  pure  chance  !" 

Mihr-un-nissa's  malevolence  grew  cynical.  "Yet,  yea,"  she 
jeered.  "  Chance  is  as  good  as  any  other  father  to  such 
stupidity  !  Chance  that  I  had  to  put  on  my  best  robes  because 
t'others  needed  mending.  Chance  that  thy  memory  was 
befogged  !  Chance  that  'twas  not  women's  time  in  the  garden. 


74  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Chance  that  Prince  Salim,  being  sullen  " — here  her  silvery  laugh 
rang   out — "nay,    that   is   not   chance.      He   is   ever  so,   they 

say " 

At  this  moment  the  knot  loosened,  disclosing  a  small  red 
crystal  cup.  Mihr-un-nissa  turned  it  round  and  round  in  her 
hand,  then  looked  at  Dilaram,  who  sat  shaking  her  head  in 
mingled  negation  and  annoyance.  "  'Twas  only  for  luck,  I 
swear,"  she  mumbled  tearfully;  "  and  God  knows,  the  veil  fall- 
ing may  have  been  that." 

The  girl,  however,  was  too  curious  to  listen.  "  What  is't?" 
she  asked  imperiously.  "  How  didst  get  it?  Tell  me  quick,  or 
I  go  to  my  father — and  that,  thou  knowest,  is  bowstrings  or  a 
sack!" 

Thus  adjured,  Dilaram  told  the  story  of  the  jogi's  cup  from 
beginning  to  end,  while  Mihr-un-nissa,  holding  it  in  her  hand, 
listened  and  laughed  and  thrilled.  "  'Tis  as  good  as  Alif-Laila 
(Arabian  Nights),"  she  said,  when  it  was  ended,  "and  truly, 
nursie,  thou  art  a  clever  old  thing,  and  deservest  pardon."  Then 
she  became  serious  and  lifted  the  blood-red  cup  daintily  with 
both  hands ;  so,  suddenly,  held  it  to  her  blood-red  lips  and  made 
as  if  she  drank  from  it. 

Thus  for  a  space  the  reds  mingled  and  glowed. 
"  'Tis  the  Cup  of  Life — my  Life,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  and, 
as  Hafiz  hath  it,  I  will  take  it  with  a  laughing  lip,  even  if  with 
a  bleeding  heart." 

So  saying  she  tucked  it  away  in  her  bosom.  "  And  look  you, 
pander-procuress, ' '  she  continued  in  mock  heroics,  ' '  one  word 
of  this  to  anyone  and  I  tell  my  father,  and  that,  thou  knowest 
right  well,  is  bowstrings  !" 

Dilaram,  who  was  still  sitting  fruitlessly  shaking  her  head, 
began  to  nod  it  instead. 

"  Of  a  truth,"  she  mumbled,  her  voice  half  tears,  half  satis- 
faction. ' '  I  hold  there  is  none  other  with  a  right  to  know,  since 
thou  hast  come  to  woman's  estate.  Yea,  I  see  in  thine  eyes  thou 
art  child  no  longer.  Things  have  been  made  plain  to  thee,  and 
thou  must  keep  thy  luck  thyself." 

And  she  was  right  in  a  measure.  The  moment  in  a  million 
had  not  left  Mihr-un-nissa  untouched,  even  though  it  had  not 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

brought  her  what  it  had  brought  to  Salim ;  but  she  had  been  made 
to  realize  the  existence  of  some  undefinable,  mysterious  Power 
which  at  any  moment  might  touch  her  own  life.  So  after 
Dilaram,  full  of  assurances  of  secrecy,  had  left  her,  she  sat  with 
the  red  crystal  cup  in  her  hands,  dreaming  of  what  might  come 
in  the  years,  even  in  the  immediate  future.  And,  vaguely,  she 
felt  a  sort  of  disdainful  pity  for  the  lad  with  the  sodden  face. 

In  regard  to  the  immediate  future  matters  marched  with  a 
celerity  that  was  fair  bewildering. 

For  Prince  Salim,  like  any  child  crying  for  the  moon,  went 
straight  to  his  father  and  demanded  to  be  married  forthwith  to 
the  only  woman  in  the  wide  world,  Ghiyass-ud-din's  daughter, 
his  ancient  playmate,  whom,  by  chance,  he  had  seen  that  day  in 
the  "  Gold-Scattering  Garden."  There  had  been  no  question  of 
his  earnestness,  or  the  intense  selfish  desire  which  had  overlaid 
that  first  spontaneous  giving  of  himself  and  all  that  he  was 
worth  into  another's  keeping. 

And  Akbar,  surprised,  had  for  the  first  time  hesitated  in  his 
plan.  Whereupon  a  turmoil  had  arisen  in  Court  circles.  Bibi 
Azizan,  beside  herself  with  joy  at  the  success  of  her  stratagem, 
faced  her  husband  with  unusual  indifference  to  his  opinions. 

"  Talk  not  to  me  of  the  Prince's  character,"  she  said  scorn- 
fully. "  A  man  is  ever  Avhat  a  woman  makes  him.  Besides, 
he  is  but  a  lad,  and  dead  to-day  gives  birth  to  another  to-day." 

"  Ay,"  retorted  Ghiyass-ud-din  dryly,  "  but  a  rope  once  burnt 
keeps  its  twist.  Besides  " — and  here  he  took  the  final  plunge — 
"  the  child  is  already  betrothed  to  Slier  Afkan,  as  they  call  AH 
Kul  nowadays." 

Though  this  brought  about  the  finest  attack  of  hysteria  to 
which  he  had  ever  been  treated,  he  stuck  to  his  point.  What  is 
more,  he  repeated  it  when  Rajah  Birbal,  by  the  Emperor's 
desire,  came  to  sound  him,  as  father,  regarding  the  possibility 
of  a  secondary  marriage. 

And  all  this  time,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  country  and 
the  age,  no  one  thought  of  inquiring  the  opinions  of  the  girl 
herself. 

Only  the  Emperor  asked  of  it  when  Rajah  Birbal  made  his 
report.  The  latter  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  That,  Most 


76  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

High,  I  could  scarce  ask  with  courtesy.  But  inquiry  is  needless. 
There  breathes  not  a  girl  to  whom  the  heir-to-Empire  would  not 
be  welcome  husband." 

Akbar's  face  darkened,  yet  lightened.  "  Think'st  thou  so, 
friend?  Of  that  I  am  not  so  sure.  There  be  some  women  I 

wot  of "  And  he  paused.  Perhaps  he  was  thinking  of  one 

woman,  a  mere  singer  of  pedigrees,  to  whom  Empire  meant  more 
than  passion.  Anyhow,  he  was  silent  for  a  space ;  then  he  said 
autocratically,  "  I  would  see  this  girl.  Bid  her  father  bring  her 
to  me  this  evening." 

Birbal  stared.     "  'Tis  out  of  the  common,  sire,"  he  began. 

"  Nothing  is  that  in  Akbar's  Court !"  said  the  Emperor,  cut- 
ting him  short.  "  Am  I  not  the  father  of  my  people?" 

So  that  same  evening,  in  the  light  of  the  seven-wicked  lamp, 
a  slender  figure  in  white  stood  before  the  Emperor-of-all-the- 
Indies,  while  Ghiyass-ud-din  waited  without. 

"Wilt  not  unveil,  my  daughter?"  said  Akbar  courteously. 
"  I  would  fain  see  the  face  that  Shaikie  loves." 

Without  a  word  the  girl  threw  back  her  veil  and  faced  him. 
For  a  moment  Akbar  was  silent ;  then  he  said  quietly  :  ' '  My  son 
hath  good  taste,  but  not  better  than  his  father." 

Mihr-un-nissa  flushed  slightly,  but  her  words  were  simple.  "  I 
am  glad  I  please  the  King." 

''  Wherefore?"  came  the  quick  query,  but  the  answer  was  as 
quick.  "  Because  they  call  me  Queen  o'  Women,  sire,  and  the 
duty  of  the  Queen  is  to  please  the  King." 

"  Thou  hast  a  ready  wit  too,"  he  said.  "  Dost  wish  to  be  a 
Queen  in  reality?" 

She  paused,  and  her  clear  eyes  met  his.  "  It  depends,  sire, 
upon  the  King." 

His  grave  eyes  took  her  in  from  head  to  foot.  He  recognized 
that  here  was  one  who  might  be  all  things  to  a  man,  and,  taking 
her  by  the  hand,  he  led  her  to  the  royal  divan. 

"Sit  there,  Queen  o'  Women,"  he  said,  "and  give  me  thy 
desire.  Dost  wish  to  marry  my  son  Salim?" 

Her  lip  trembled  a  little.  "  I  wish  to  marry  no  man,  my 
lord." 

"  Yet  thou  art  betrothed  to  Sher  Afkan,  they  say.    Is  this  so  ?" 


MISTRESS  OF  MEX  77 

"  My  father  says  so — and  he  is  a  brave  man.  I  like  him." 
She  spoke  quite  fearlessly. 

"  Better  than  Shaikie?  Wherefore?"  Akbar's  parental 
pride  was  in  arms  at  once;  but  Mihr-un-nissa  heeded  it  not. 
"  Because  he  is  better  man.  The  Prince  is  but  a  boy." 

"  And  thou  art  but  a  girl.  So  if  it  came  to  choice,  thou 
wouldst  choose  the  tiger-slayer?" 

"  It  cometh  not  to  choice,"  she  began;  but  he  interrupted  her 
with  a  wave  of  his  hand.  "  Nay,  child,  it  doth.  Either  thou 
must  marry  Sher  Afkan  or  Salim  must  have  thee.  Thou  canst 
not  hang  like  a  ripe  fruit  within  his  reach ;  'twould  not  be  fair  to 
him.  Thou  must  choose " 

It  was  the  turn  for  her  pride  to  be  in  arms.  "  Then  I  choose 
my  cousin,"  she  said  coldly  as  she  rose. 

Akbar  stayed  her  by  a  gesture.  "Lady,"  he  said  almost 
pleadingly,  "  wilt  not  try  and  love  my  son?  This  marriage  to 
the  Rajput  Princess  must  go  forward,  but  with  all  honour  would 
I  welcome  thee — as  daughter-in-law." 

Her  look  almost  made  him  quail.  "  Sire,"  she  said,  "  they 
call  me  Queen  o'  Women,  and  I  will  be  that  to  a  good  man,  if  I 
am  not  Queen  in  reality." 

"  So  thou  art  ambitious?"  he  broke  in. 

"  Of  my  rightful  place,"  she  said,  and  her  small  hands 
clasped  together  so  tightly  as  she  spoke  that  he  could  note  the 
strain  she  put  upon  herself.  "  Great  King,  you  bid  me  choose, 
and  I  have  chosen.  I  love  no  one ;  but  love  is  not  all,  and  none 
shall  say  I  did  harm  to  anyone — least  of  all  to  the  son  of  the 
Emperor  Mahomed  Jalal-ud-din  Akbar." 

And  with  that  she  swept  him  a  salaam  than  which  no  Court 
lady  of  mature  age  could  have  done  a  better,  and  asked  leave 
to  retire.  Which  he  gave,  feeling  that  he  also  had  met  his 
match,  and  vaguely  regretful  that  it  was  impossible  to  secure 
such  beauty  and  such  wit  for  his  heir.  For  instinct  told  him 
that  force,  even  had  he  been  inclined  to  try  it,  would  have 
availed  him  nothing.  He  could  capture  the  body,  but  the  mind 
was  beyond  him,  and,  in  truth,  it  was  too  like  his  own  for  him 
to  think  of  coercion. 

Nevertheless,  the  maiden  must  be  given  her  freedom  of  limited 


78  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

choice  wtfh  the  least  possible  danger  to  Salim.  Ghiyass-ud-din, 
nothing  loath  at  a  speed  which  put  a  definite  term  to  his  wife's 
outcries,  nothing  loath  at  a  secrecy  which  curtailed  ceremonies, 
fell  in  with  the  idea  of  a  hasty  wedding,  and  so,  ere  a  week  was 
over,  Mihr-un-nissa  found  herself  in  bridal  scarlet  with  her  hand 
tight  clasped  in  one  that  gave  her  confidence,  and  as,  through 
the  long  strings  of  thread  jasmine  blossoms  which  formed  her 
bridal  veil  she  looked  calmly  at  the  scar  upon  the  bridegroom's 
face,  she  knew  she  was  giving  herself  to  a  brave  man.  Seated 
on  the  Persian  carpet  beside  him,  her  garments  touching  his,  she 
could  feel  the  tense  earnestness  with  which,  when  the  dower  was 
named,  he  broke  in  on  the  legalities  settled  beforehand  with  a 
sum  extravagantly  beyond  all  power  to  pay,  as  evidence  that 
never,  never  would  he  consent  to  part  with  her;  and  she  knew 
she  was  giving  herself  to  a  loving  man.  So,  when  the  time  came 
for  her  to  repeat  after  the  Kazi  that  she  took  him  willingly  for 
her  husband,  a  smile  was  on  her  lips,  and  the  bewildering  dimple 
showed  itself  half  revealed  by  the  loose  strands  of  the  flower 
veil. 

Bibi  Azizan,  of  course,  was  in  tears,  but  that  could  be  put 
down  to  natural  emotion,  and  not  to  chagrin.  Dilaram,  at  heart 
a  woman  pure  and  simple,  could  not  help,  like  Juliet's  nurse, 
rejoicing  that  her  darling  had  found  at  least  so  proper  a  man. 
And  of  good  rank  too,  since  Akbar,  to  facilitate  matters,  had 
appointed  him  to  the  Governorship  of  Bengal.  Therefore  she 
was  smiles  and  tears;  mostly  the  former,  since  she  was  to  go 
with  the  bride  to  the  new  home. 

And  when  the  marriage  contract  had  been  duly  signed  and  the 
circled  ceremony  broke  up,  Sher  Afkan  stooped  to  his  new  wife's 
ear  and  whispered  : 

"  Good-bye,  Queen  of  Women  !  I  deem  it  best  to  go  at  once. 
We  shall  meet  later  on  in  some  Garden  of  Roses.  Farewell,  my 
heart,  for  a  time." 

She  gave  him  one  grateful  look  through  the  flowers,  and  he 
took  the  memory  of  the  bewildering  dimple  with  him. 

And  as  through  the  darkness  of  the  night  her  dhooli  followed 
fast  in  the  wake  of  the  knot  of  horsemen  that  were  galloping 
hard  on  the  Bengal  road,  she  took  out  of  her  bosom  the  blood- 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN 


79 


red  crystal  cup  and  held  it  to  her  blood-red  lips  with  the  hand  on 
which  shone  the  ring  new  given  her  by  her  new  husband.  So 
once  more  the  reds  mingled. 

She  gave  no  thought  at  all  to  what  she  left  behind  her.  A  lad, 
passionate,  young,  sullen,  lying  face  down  on  the  embroidered 
cushions  in  the  Palace  of  the  Four  Winds,  muttering  to  himself  : 

"  I  bide  my  time  !     I  bide  my  time  !" 


BOOK    II 

CHAPTER  I 

"  Lo  !  as  the  taper  wastes  and  wasting  burns, 
So  happy  Life  lives  on  itself,  nor  learns 
Aught  of  the  Lesson  that  each  Soul  must  know 
Till  Death  steps  in  and  good  from  ill  discerns. ' ' 

How  long  does  it  take  to  live  twenty-two  years  ?  Not  long  when 
the  heart  is  happy ;  and  the  Queen  of  Women  had  been  very 
happy.  Perhaps  not  supremely  so,  since  her  nature  had  never 
been  raised  to  its  heights  nor  plumbed  to  its  depths;  but  those 
heights,  those  depths,  were  so  immeasurably  superior  to  those  of 
the  ordinary  woman  that  in  the  phraseology  of  normal  life  she 
would  have  been  set  down  as  one  of  the  fortunate  few  who  lacked 
nothing. 

At  six  and  thirty,  history  hath  it  that  she  was  far  more  beau- 
tiful than  she  had  been  at  sixteen.  The  extraordinary  charm  of 
face,  figure,  voice,  manner  had  increased  with  the  experience  of 
those  twenty-two  years,  and  the  dimple  had  become  more  adorable 
in  contrast  to  the  greater  gravity  of  the  eyes,  the  firmer  lines  of 
the  mouth. 

One  regret — and  that  grew  fainter  with  the  passing  of  the 
years — was  hers ;  she  had  no  son.  One  had  been  born  to  her  in 
the  early  years  of  married  life,  and  had  died  when  still  an 
infant.  Then  had  come  a  long  period  during  which,  comforted 
by  her  husband's  absolute  content  in  things  as  they  were,  she  had 
schooled  herself  to  childlessness.  Finally,  a  girl  had  been  born 
to  find  its  way  into  some  empty  niche  in  its  father's  heart  (which 
he  must  have  kept  concealed  from  her  sedulously),  and  so  round 
up  his  life  into  perfection. 

"  Talk  not  to  me  of  sons,  wife,"  he  said.  "  See  you,  the 
whole  world,  as  you  know,  is  bound  up  for  me  in  one  woman ; 
so  I  welcome  this  one  made  in  thy  very  image." 

81  6 


82 

It  was  not  true,  for  the  child  took  more  after  him,  outwardly 
at  any  rate;  but  he  believed  it  as  he  put  his  arm — his  great 
strong  arm — round  her ;  so  she  smiled  up  into  his  kindly,  scarred 
face. 

The  question  as  to  whether  she  really  loved  the  man  she  had 
chosen  in  preference  to  Prince  Salim,  whether  the  mysterious 
something  she  had  once  seen  so  clearly  in  a  lad's  eyes  had  ever 
touched  her  life,  never  occurred  to  her;  partly  because,  kindly, 
loving,  affectionate  as  he  was,  it  had  never  really  touched  her 
husband's  life.  He  was  one  of  the  many  who,  being  made  with- 
out moods,  without  unevenness  of  temperament,  never  feel  the 
need  of  an  over-mastering  passion.  Clear  as  crystal,  strong, 
sensible,  affectionate  to  a  degree,  he  was  so  dear  to  her,  as  a 
friend,  a  son,  might  haT  2  been  dear,  that  she  thanked  God  he  was 
no  different.  In  brains  she  could  not  help  seeing  her  superiority, 
but  with  this  knowledge  came  the  certainty  that  not  one  man  in 
ten  thousand  would  have  surpassed  her ;  thus  both  her  own  clever- 
ness, and  his  comparative  lack  of  it,  sank  into  insignificance. 
Indeed,  for  one  so  palpably  more  intellectual,  she  relied  on 
his  judgment  almost  curiously,  bringing  her  paintings,  her 
embroideries,  her  sonnets  to  the  bar  of  his  opinion.  If  he 
approved,  she  was  satisfied,  for  she  knew  his  verdict  to  be  quite 
unconventional  and  natural ;  while  as  for  her  achievements  in 
conserves,  pickles,  jams,  and  the  like,  she  trusted  his  taste  before 
that  of  her  brother  Asof  Khan,  who  was  a  noted  gourmet  of  the 
Agra  Court,  and  who,  on  his  occasional  visits  to  his  sister, 
invariably  brought  with  him  some  recipe  for  a  new  dainty. 
These  Mihr-un-nissa  concocted  with  infinite  care,  to  her  brother's 
entire  satisfaction ;  but,  as  often  as  not,  her  husband  would  make 
a  wry  face  and  set  his  portion  aside.  "  There  be  too  many 
savours  to  it,"  he  would  say,  "and  I  like  them  all  !  So  my 
palate  quarrels  as  which  be  first,  and  there  is  war  in  my  inside 
also,  since  turmoil,  once  begun,  invades  all  things  !" 

That,  indeed,  showed  the  most  salient  point  in  his  character. 
He  loved  peace  as  he  hated  war  or  pain  of  any  kind.  A  mighty 
hunter,  he  would  yet  grieve  over  any  wounded  buck  or  bird  that 
escaped  to  suffer,  though  he  would  cut  the  throat  of  the  one  or 
wring  the  neck  of  the  other  without  a  qualm.  Yet  the  tale  of 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  83 

his  slaughter  was  enormous,  for  his  great  recreation  was  sport, 
and  he  taught  Mihr-un-nissa  to  shoot  as  straight  as  he  did,  always 
maintaining,  indeed,  that  she  was  a  surer,  steadier  shot  at  winged 
game  than  he  was  himself. 

"  'Tis  a  question  of  temperament,"  he  declared.  "  Thou  art 
far  more  alert  than  I,  and  it  shows  in  the  hitting  of  black  par- 
tridge as  in  all  else." 

Asof  Khan,  her  courtier  brother,  was  inclined  to  demur  to  his 
sister's  prowess  in  the  field,  though  he  was  forced  to  admit  that 
the  outdoor  life  with  its  varied  interests  kept  her  wondrous  young. 
He  himself,  though  but  a  few  years  older,  was  already  portly ; 
a  greasy-looking  middle-aged  man  with  loose  curves  about  his 
mouth  and  a  great  flow  of  conversation.  He  came  primed  with 
all  the  gossip  of  the  Court,  and  they  heard  from  him — their  only 
link  with  it — of  the  town  life  they  had  left  so  far  behind,  and 
regretted  so  little.  And  there  had  been  much  to  chronicle,  for 
those  twenty  years  had  not  been  peaceful  ones.  Prince  Salim 
had  drifted  further  and  further  from  Akbar 's  ideals,  had  more 
than  once  actually  rebelled  against  his  father.  He  had  been 
forgiven  more  than  once  also,  but  the  minds  of  many  were 
already  alert  over  the  question  of  the  succession.  Would  Salim 
finally  be  chosen  as  heir,  or  his  young  son,  Prince  Khushrau,  a 
promising  lad  of  whom  Akbar  the  Emperor  was  very  fond  ? 
Not  so  fond,  however,  as  he  was  of  the  still  younger  Prince 
Khurram,  who  greatly  resembled  him  in  many  ways. 

Possibly,  had  the  Emperor  been  quite  free  to  choose,  his  choice 
might  have  fallen  on  the  latter ;  but  Akbar  was  ever  dominated 
by  a  sense  of  duty,  and  to  oust  an  elder  brother  for  a  younger, 
from  no  cause  but  personal  liking,  was  not  in  his  code  of  things- 
to  be  done. 

So  it  lay  between  Khushrau  and  Salim.  Asof  Khan  plunged 
boldly  for  the  latter,  and  waxed  hot  with  indignation  against  his 
young  brother  Sharif,  who  was  an  adherent  of  Khushrau's. 

"  He  could  scarce  be  worse  as  a  monarch  than  Prince  Salim 
promised  to  be,"  Mihr-un-nissa  would  say  coldly,  while  Asof 
Khan  sat  looking  at  his  sister  with  curious  eyes. 

"Why  dost  stare  so?"  she  asked  petulantly.  "Art  taking 
an  inventory  of  me?" 


84  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

"  Ay  !"  he  replied  jestingly.  "  Dost  forget  that  amma-jdn — 
and  mayhap  others — will  question  me  as  to  thy  looks  on  my 
return?" 

For  Bengal  being  a  far  cry  from  Agra,  and  Bibi  Azizan  never 
having  forgiven  her  son-in-law  for  removing  her  daughter  from 
Court  influences,  the  good  lady  had  never  brought  herself  to  pay 
his  house  a  visit. 

So  matters  stood  twenty  years  after  Mihr-un-nissa  had  laid 
her  hand,  not  unwillingly,  in  that  of  her  cousin  with  the  scarred 
face.  Griefs  had  come  to  their  peaceful  wedded  life,  but  they 
had  passed.  Friends  of  her  youth  had  died ;  among  them  faith- 
ful Zaman  Shah,  who  more  than  once  had  travelled  conveying  a 
caravan  as  far  south  as  Burdwan  in  order  to  see  one  whom,  with 
a  sort  of  delighted  diffidence,  he  still  called  his  daughter.  Many 
were  the  strange  gifts  and  pets  he  sent  her,  and  ever  they  came, 
accredited  by  some  ghazil  of  Hafiz,  to  which  Mihr-un-nissa 
would  reply  with  her  ready  wit  and  easy  versification,  while 
those  two,  Zaman  Shah  and  Ali  Kul,  wrould  look  at  her 
admiringly. 

It  had  been  when  on  the  return  journey  from  his  last  visit 
to  her  that  he  met  with  his  death.  The  caravan  which  he  was 
guarding  to  Kabul  had  halted  but  a  few  miles  from  Thaneswar. 
No  noise,  no  outcry  was  heard,  but  when  morning  came  Zaman 
Shah  was  found  strangled  in  his  bed.  Revenge,  not  robbery, 
must  have  been  the  motive ;  but  the  whole  affair  was  mysterious, 
since  Dilaram,  who  might  perchance  have  given  a  clue,  kept  a 
close  tongue. 

It  was  safer  for  her  heart's  darling. 

But  though  griefs  had  passed,  joy  and  luck  had  come  and  had 
remained.  So  had  the  little  red  crystal  cup,  though  for  the 
most  part  it  now  held  memories  of  pain,  since  Mihr-un-nissa,  in 
half  reliance  on  its  talismanic  properties,  had  ever  used  it  as  a 
medicine-glass  when  dear  ones  were  ailing.  So  the  mere  sight 
of  it  set  Sher  Afkan  making  wry  faces,  and  swearing  that  jogi-ji 
must  have  sent  it  to  be  the  fly  in  the  honey-pot  of  his  life  ! 

Thus  matters  stood  w^hen  one  day  he  came  back  from  his 
work  at  Burdwan  and  sat  him  down  sadly  in  the  marble  summer- 
house  which  Mihr-un-nissa  had  caused  to  be  built  in  the  middle 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  85 

)f  the  garden  she  had  had  laid  out  in  imitation  of  that  Garden 
of  Roses  where  she  had  spent  so  many  years  of  her  young  life. 

"It  is  all  over,  wife,"  he  said.  "  Akbar  is  dead — the  best 
king  India  has  ever  had — the  finest  man — in  a  way  our  best 
friend — hath  found  freedom." 

Mihr-un-nissa  left  her  occupation  of  conserving  rose-leaves  and 
came  to  stand  beside  him.  "And  who  succeeds?"  she  asked 
after  a  pause.  "  Did  the  Emperor  keep  his  promise  to 
Khushrau  and  make  him  his  heir?" 

Her  husband  shook  his  head.  "  Nay,  at  the  last  Salim's 
father  forgave  his  son  once  more ;  and — and  he  may  do  better 
than  folk  think." 

Mihr-un-nissa's  lip  curled ;  she  went  back  to  her  conserves. 
"  Then  must  he  have  changed  much  since  he  was  a  lad.  God 
send  he  may  !" 

Something  in  her  tone  made  Sher  Afkhan  give  her  a  quick 
glance  as  he  echoed  the  wish. 

"  God  send  he  may  !"  he  cried,  and  with  that  caught  up  his 
child,  a  wee  girl  of  some  five  years  old,  and  went  racing  with  her 
on  his  shoulder  through  the  garden.  Down  one  alley,  up  another, 
ducking  his  great  height  for  the  most  part  to  avoid  the  branches 
of  the  flowering  trees,  which  sent  showers  of  multi-coloured 
petals  upon  child  and  man,  both  full  of  laughter. 

Mihr-un-nissa  watched  them,  now  in  sunshine,  now  in  shade, 
and  a  troubled  look  crept  to  her  eyes.  For  she  was  shrewd 
enough  to  see  that  this  change  of  Kings  might  mean  much.  As 
a  Prince,  Salim  had  ever  been  revengeful,  and  from  one  or  two 
things  her  brother  had  let  drop,  it  might  be  that  he  had  not  quite 
forgotten.  Anyhow,  her  husband  was  not  likely  to  be  a  -persona 
grata  at  the  new  Court,  and  his  faithful  service  of  years  would 
count  for  little  in  his  favour.  So  dismissal  from  his  office  might 
occur ;  not  that  it  mattered  much,  since  they  could  live  on,  these 
dear  ones,  quite  happily  without  the  pomp  and  circumstance. 
For  Ali  Kul,  as  she  still  called  him  in  their  intimate  life,  had 
never  been  one  to  care  for  luxury,  and  the  child,  little  Glad- 
ness— who,  despite  her  father's  dictum,  was  growing  to  be  his 
living  image — would  be  as  wholesome  and  as  happy  in  the  gar- 
den as  it  was  possible  for  any  child  to  be.  And  for  herself? 


-86 

She  paused  in  her  work  and  smiled ;  for  she  knew  herself  to  be 
capable  of  earning  a  livelihood — shoul-d  it  come  to  that — in  many 
Avays ;  even  as  confectioner  !  And  it  would  be  strangely  satis- 
factory to  feel  that  those  two  dear  ones  were  dependant  upon 
her,  though  in  a  way  they  were  so  now,  since  it  was  her  beauty 
which  had  brought  their  present  luxury.  And  her  lip  curled 
again  at  the  thought  of  the  payment  that  had  been  made;  for 
she  was  clear-sighted  to  a  degree. 

So  she  lifted  out  the  rose-leaves  from  her  syrup  and  set  them 
to  dry  on  the  marble  slab,  noting  with  pride  how  they  had  kept 
their  colour,  how  crisp,  how  fresh  they  looked.  Old  Dilaram, 
now  grown  fatter  than  ever  and  rather  deaf,  was  seated  a  little 
way  off,  packing  the  dried  ones  in  small  silver-fringed  baskets, 
that  were  destined  as  an  offering  to  Mihr-un-nissa's  old  friend 
and  teacher,  Khanzada  Racquiya  Begum;  this  occasional  inter- 
-change  of  trifling  presents  and  somewhat  ceremonious  letters 
being  the  only  link  Mihr-un-nissa  had  cared  to  cherish  with  that 
past  life  of  her  youth. 

"  Hast  heard  the  news,  nursie?"  she  said,  going  over  to  the 
old  woman  with  a  fresh  batch  of  rose-leaves  ready  for  packing. 
' '  Our  lord  the  Emperor  hath  found  freedom  ! ' ' 

Dilaram  threw  up  her  hands.  "  May  he  rest  in  peace  !"  she 
exclaimed;  then  her  shrewd,  strong  old  face  wrinkled  itself  in 
sudden  anxiety.  "  And  who  hath  the  throne?"  she  added. 

When  she  was  told,  she  sat  shaking  her  head  and  mumbling  to 
herself.  Mihr-un-nissa  stamped  her  foot  impatiently.  "  Out 
with  it,  nursie;  what  thinkst  thou?" 

"  This !"  said  the  old  woman  suddenly,  unhesitatingly. 
41  May  God  save  the  master's  life  !" 

Her  hearer  stepped  back,  the  hot  blood  leaving  her  very  lips. 
Then  she  turned  away  angrily.  "  Say  not  such  foolishness, 
slave  !"  she  cried  hotly.  "  Men  are  not  made  so — they  forget !" 

Dilaram,  packing  the  scented  rose-leaves  away  in  their  silvern 
lx)xes,  mumbled  again  over  her  work.  Men  might  forget  some 
things,  but  not  all.  And  why  had  Asof  Khan  ever  been  so 
curious  ? 

Mihr-un-nissa,  returning  to  her  rose-leaf  syrup,  tried  to  set  the 
old  woman's  words  aside,  but  failed  to  do  so.  Mere  revenge  she 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  87 

had  herself  imagined;  but  this  was  different,  and  brought  with 
it,  not  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  a  sudden  distaste  for  herself, 
for  the  beauty  which  makes  men  fight  for  the  possession  of  a 
woman — as  if  it  were  possible  to  gain  possession  by  blows  ! 

Then  her  whole  self,  body  and  soul,  rose  in  revolt  against  the 
thought  that  she  might  be  the  cause  of  danger  to  her  husband, 
and  she  told  herself  the  idea  was  incredible.  Still,  it  remained 
with  her,  though,  as  the  next  few  months  passed,  bringing  no 
sign  of  any  interference  from  Agra,  it  lessened  greatly ;  and  she 
was  just  beginning  to  scoff  at  her  own  dread  when  something 
occurred  which  was  at  one  and  the  same  time  a  relief  and  an 
insult. 

Sher  Afkan  received,  by  a  duly  accredited  envoy,  a  clear-cut 
proposition  from  the  new  Emperor  that,  in  consideration  of  cer- 
tain benefits — one  a  large  sum  of  money — he  should  consent  to 
divorce  his  wife,  as  every  Mahomedan  is  able  to  do  at  a  moment's 
notice,  and  send  her  to  the  Imperial  harem. 

Mihr-un-nissa  read  the  precious  document,  which  her  husband 
put  into  her  hands  without  comment,  and  felt,  above  all,  relief. 
Here  was  legality  and  sweet  reasonableness  with  a  vengeance. 
No  hint  here  of  violence  or  even  of  calculated  revenge.  Salim 
Avas  willing  to  strike  a  commercial  bargain;  the  goods  would  be 
paid  for  when  delivered.  Then  the  insult  of  the  proposition 
made  her  once  more  think  of  her  own  beauty  with  abhorrence, 
and  she  glanced  at  her  husband  almost  piteously.  He  showed 
calm,  unmoved,  only  a  tightened  grip  on  his  sword-hilt  telling  of 
uttermost  tension. 

"  Well  !"  she  queried  at  last  passionately.  "  What  sayest 
thou  to  the  transfer?  'Tis  a  big  price  !" 

"  What  I  say — or  think,"  he  replied  in  even  tones,  "counts 
for  naught.  That  is  why  I  refer  it  for  the  woman  to  decide.  I 
stand  in  no  one's  way." 

"  And  if  I  say  no  !  A  thousand  times  no  !"  she  burst  out. 
"  If  I  say  that  death  is  preferable,  what  then?" 

His  whole  aspect  changed.     Calm  was  gone,  and  the  fury  of 

the  wild  beasts  he  had  so  often  slain  informed  every  inch  of  his 

great  height,   every   atom  of  his  honest  soul,   as  he  shouted  : 

'  Then  may  God  curse  him  for  ever  and  ever  to  the  nethermost 


88  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

hell,  and  may  this  hand  of  mine  be  the  one  to  send  him  thither, 
Emperor  though  he  be  !" 

His  face  was  black  with  pure  passion;  he  literally  quivered 
with  sheer  anger. 

Mihr-un-nissa  went  up  to  him  and  laid  her  beautful  head  on 
his  breast.  "  Hush,  my  heart,"  she  said  fondly.  "  Walls  have 
ears,  and  he  is  Emperor  !" 

He  held  her  to  him  with  a  grip  of  iron,  covering  her  the  while 
with  hot,  burning  kisses.  Then  he  gave  a  half  ashamed  laugh. 
"  'Tis  not  often  thou  seest  me  thus,  sweet  wife,"  he  whispered, 
''though  thy  beauty  is  enough  to  madden  any  man." 

She  shrank,  even  in  his  arms.  "  Talk  not  of  my  beauty, 
husband,"  she  almost  sobbed.  "  'Tis  such  a  little  thing.  So 
many  have  it." 

"  Not  as  thou,"  he  protested,  "  and  when  I  think By 

the  Prophet  !  I  could  send  my  sword  through  his  heart  when 

I  think "  He  renewed  his  kisses,  and  she  gave  a  little 

sigh. 

"  Think  not,  dear  heart,"  she  said  almost  resignedly.  "  'Tis 
not  worth  a  thought,  since  thou  and  I  art  agreed  on  this  matter. 
See,  I  will  write  a  rejoinder  in  my  best  style  and  with  my  best 
pen,  and  thou  wilt  be  satisfied  with  it." 

"  I  am  satisfied  with  all  things  that  thou  doest,  Light  of 
mine  House  !"  he  replied  fondly.  "  Sure,  none  but  a  fool 
could  be  otherwise  !" 

Her  answer  was  half  smile,  half  sigh. 

So  the  letter  was  written,  and  a  full  stately  one  it  was,  though 
AH  Kul  objected  to  one  argument  therein  set  forth — namely, 
that  the  woman  in  question  was  now  of  an  age  when  her  sex 
ceases  to  be  desirable.  To  begin  with,  he  said  it  was  not 
true ;  she  might  say  what  she  liked ;  besides,  Asof  Khan  must 
have  reported  otherwise. 

"  Thinkst  thou,"  asked  Mihr-un-nissa  hotly,  pausing  in  her 

scribe's  office,  "  if  that  were  so,  I  would "  Then  her  mind 

flew  back  to  many  a  vague  hint  of  her  brother's  which,  viewed 
from  this  standpoint,  betokened  ulterior  motives,  and  she  sat 
silent,  asking  herself  bitterly  if  even  brotherly  affection  could 
not  withstand  the  fatal  lure  of  her  beauty.  But  there  were 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  89 

other  arguments  in  the  letter  which  pointed  out  that  with  the 
writer  honour  stood  before  mere  greed  of  gain,  and  ended  by 
stating  curtly  that  apart  from  these  considerations  of  the  man 
concerned,  Mihr-un-nissa,  as  woman,  declined  to  be  bought  and 
sold! 

It  was  duly  besprinkled  with  scent  and  gold-leaf,  placed  in 
an  embroidered  silken  bag,  and  given  to  the  courier  who  had 
brought  the  Emperor's  missive.  He  carried  another  packet 
too,  a  far  more  bulky  one,  being  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
Sher  Afkan's  formal  resignation  of  his  office  and  his  papers  of 
commission. 

There  was  no  reference  to  his  wife  as  to  the  sending  in  of 
these.  He  simply  told  her  what  he  had  done,  and  when,  some- 
what taken  aback  by  his  promptitude,  she  suggested  time  for 
consideration,  he  cut  her  short  by  saying  firmly  :  "  I  remain  not 
one  other  hour  in  the  service  of  a  man  who  hath  so  grievously 
insulted  me — and  thou  also.  I  am  no  longer  Governor  !  Nay, 
more  :  I  hold  no  rank  in  the  Emperor's  army.  I  owe  him  no- 
service  of  sort  or  kind.  I  am  free.  Here,  slave  !"  he  called 
at  an  attendant  outside.  "Take  my  sword;  and  thou — burn 
all  my  uniforms  and  accoutrements — dost  hear?  Henceforth 
I  am  no  longer  Sher  Afkan,  since  that  title  also  was  given 
me  by  the  Mogul.  I  am  AH  Kul  Istalijii,  by  birth  Persian, 
gentleman  at  large." 

'Twas  as  that   I  first  saw  my   lord,"   said   Mihr-un-nissa 
softly. 

AH  Kul's  pleasant  ugly  face  was  irradiated  by  a  smile. 
"  When  thou  wert  boy  !  In  truth,  my  life,  I  see  small  differ- 
ence in  thee  now,  save  that  thou  art  taller — and  better-looking." 
'  Naught  of  looks,  I  prithee,  husband,"  she  answered, 
smiling  also.  "  Others  may  count  them,  but  we — heed  them 
not!" 

So  cheerfully,  happily,  they  set  the  insult  aside,  and  hand 
in  hand  strolled  off  into  the  garden  to  see  how  some  new  lilies 
a  Chinese  traveller  had  brought  from  the  far-off  hills  were 
growing. 

There  were  plenty  such  interests  for  these  two,  and  the  next 
few  months  passed  for  them  even  more  happily  than  heretofore. 


9o  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

AH  Kul  was  indeed  swordless,  but  his  guns  remained ;  so  he 
and  Mihr-un-nissa,  with  the  little  Gladness,  duly  carried  from 
camping-place  to  camping-place  in  a  little  dhoolie  all  hung 
with  bells,  had  many  an  expedition  after  big  game  and  small 
game. 

News  of  the  Court  drifted  down  to  them  slowly,  yet  surely, 
but  none  of  it  seemed  to  affect  them  in  any  way.  They  heard 
the  new  name  which  Salim  assumed — Nur-ud-din  Jahangir 
(Light  of  the  World  and  World  conqueror) — and  smiled  to 
themselves  that  one  who  was  a  light  to  nothing,  and  who  could 
not  even  govern  himself,  should  arrogate  to  his  person  such  a 
title.  They  heard  also  of  the  harshness  with  which  Prince 
Khushrau's  ill-considered  attempt  at  rebellion  had  been  treated, 
and  pitied  the  lad,  who,  without  doubt,  had  been  incited  thereto 
by  his  father's  rebellion  against  Akbar,  and  the  consequent 
indecision  of  the  latter  as  to  the  appointment  of  his  heir. 

"  God  send  Sharif  doth  not  mix  himself  up  in  it,"  said  Mihr- 
un-nissa  anxiously;  "but  he  is  ever  hasty,  and  hath  such  an 
enmity  to  Asof  that  he  will  act  contrariwise  to  him  if  he  can." 

"  Ay,"  assented  Ali  Kui,  "  but  I  like  the  fellow  better  than 
his  elder  brother,  for  all  his  hastiness.  Asof  is  too  calculating. 
He  hath  thy  father's  turn  for  figures,  but  uses  those  of  thy 
mother,  and  they  are  not  mine." 

So,  after  a  time,  they  heard  of  the  Emperor's  intended  shoot- 
ing excursion  to  Kashmir  and  Kabul,  whereat  they  breathed 
more  freely,  feeling  that  he  would  be  unlikely,  when  occupied 
there,  to  turn  his  thoughts  Bengal  ways ;  he  would  have  enough 
pleasure  without  seeking  for  more. 

Herein,  though  partly  right,  they  failed  to  allow  for  a  very 
important  factor  in  the  case — namely,  that  the  attraction  Prince 
Salim  had  so  suddenly  developed  for  the  girl  who  had  held  his 
doves  was  less  of  a  pleasure  than  a  necessity  of  life.  Fur- 
thermore, they  did  not  realize  the  effect  which  his  Rajput  wife's 
recent  death  had  had  upon  a  mind  that,  with  all  its  faults,  was 
imaginative,  romantic,  and  superstitious  to  a  degree.  Briefly, 
it  seemed  to  him  to  offer  a  recommencement  of  life.  He  was 
now  free  to  place  the  one  woman  in  the  world  where  she  would 
have  been  twenty  years  before,  had  not  his  father  thwarted  his 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  91 

desire — to  that  father's  own  injury,  be  it  said,  since  from  that 
day  when  he  had  passionately  declared  he  had  been  tricked, 
Salini  had  been  at  ill  concealed  enmity  with  Akbar.  Then  the 
mere  method  of  the  poor  Rajput  lady's  death  bore  out  his  feel- 
ing that  Fate  was  at  last  on  his  side.  For  it  was  not  a  natural 
death.  She  had  poisoned  herself,  in  grief,  it  was  averred,  at 
her  son  Khushrau's  evil  deeds.  Whether  this  be  so  or  not,  it 
is  difficult  to  say;  but  that  the  event  made  a  great  impression 
on  her  husband  Jahangir  is  evident  from  what  he  writes  of  her 
in  his  memoirs. 

"  Her  mind,"  the  passage  runs,  "  had  been  several  times 
disturbed,  such  feelings  being  hereditary,  her  ancestors  and 
brothers  having  shown  signs  of  madness ;  but  each  time  she 
recovered.  However,  when  I  had  gone  ahunting,  she  in  her 
agitation  swallowed  a  quantity  of  opium,  and  quickly  passed 
away.  In  consequence  of  her  death  I  spent  some  days  with- 
out any  kind  of  pleasure  in  existence,  and  for  the  space  of  four 
days  (which  amounts  to  twenty-four  watches)  I  took  nothing  in 
the  shape  of  food  or  drink." 

Whether  the  latter  sentence  conveys  truth  or  not,  certain  it  is 
that  just  as  Jahangir  came  to  the  throne  he  found  himself 
unexpectedly  free  to  offer  the  most  honourable  form  of  all  mar- 
riages to  the  love  of  his  youth.  That  this  must,  given  his 
emotional  nature,  have  had  a  profound  effect  upon  him  cannot 
be  doubted,  though  whether  it  was  the  determining  cause  of  his 
first  offer  of  a  divorce  is  a  mere  matter  for  guess-work. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  just  as  the  roses  in  the  Burdwan  garden 
were  beginning  to  blossom  the  next  year,  a  bolt  out  of  the  blue 
fell  upon  the  contented  married  pair  who  lived  therein.  A 
•firman  from  the  Emperor  requiring  their  instant  appearance  at 
Court  in  Agra  was  followed  almost  immediately  by  the  news 
that  Jahangir 's  own  foster-brother  and  most  approved  tool,  one 
Kutb-ud-din  Koka,  who  had  lately  been  appointed  Viceroy  of 
Bengal,  was  approaching  with  a  large  following  on  Burdwan. 

For  what  purpose?  Those  two  looked  into  each  other's  fear- 
less faces,  knowing  in  their  inmost  hearts  that  it  boded  no  peace 
to  them. 

"  I  misdoubt  me  'tis  for  evil,  not  for  good,"  said  Ali  Kul, 


92  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

as  with  his  arm  round  his  wife's  waist  he  read  and  reread  the 
missive  which  bade  him  repair  to  the  Viceroy  on  his  arrival  for 
orders.  "Yet  this,"  he  continued,  smiling  into  her  eyes,  "is 
beyond  doubt !  I  can  defend  thine  honour  and  mine  own 
better  than  most." 

Nevertheless,  Mihr-un-nissa,  even  as  she  looked  at  his  long 
limbs,  his  broad  chest,  and  the  still  youthful  poise  of  his  whole 
figure,  felt  her  heart  sink.  He  was  man  indeed ;  but  what  did 
strength  and  courage  avail  against  treachery?  What  even  did 
her  wit  avail  against  autocratic  powers?  Yet  that  they  were 
face  to  face  with  both  she  felt  sure.  A  sense  of  coming  disaster 
brooded  over  her  very  soul ;  which  stood  apart  from  her,  as  it 
were,  looking  down  on  the  beauty  of  body  in  which  at  times 
it  revelled,  condemning  it  utterly.  Had  she  only  been  as  other 
women,  life  would  have  gone  on  peacefully.  So,  as  she  sat 
thinking,  she  took  the  fogi's  red  crystal  cup  from  the  silken 
bag  in  which  she  always  carried  it  strung  round  her  neck  with 
a  fine  row  of  seed-pearls,  and  laid  its  brim  to  her  lips. 

Once  more  the  reds  mingled,  but  it  struck  cold,  and  she  laid 
it  back  in  its  hiding-place  with  a  sigh. 

Was  her  luck  leaving  her? 


CHAPTER  II 

O  Saki !     Save  the  Cup  of  Life,  what  Gift 
Hast  thou  to  bring  us  blind  ones  ?     Canst  thou  lift 
The  Veil  that  hides  Ourselves  from  our  own  Selves? 
Canst  thou  show  Light  beyond  Death's  dreadful  rift?" 

ALI  KUL  decided  to  write  courteous  reply  to  the  coming  Viceroy 
that,  having  no  official  standing  of  any  sort,  he  must  ask  on 
what  business  his  attendance  was  required ;  to  which  had  come 
answer  that  the  Emperor  desired  him  forthwith  to  leave  Burd- 
wan,  and  with  his  wife  and  family  repair  to  the  Court  at  Agra. 

Again  a  courteous  request  for  a  reason  had  gone  forth,  to  be 
met  by  a  temporizing  invitation  to  a  private  and  unarmed  meet- 
ing, when  the  position  would  be  fully  explained. 

"  I  must  go,  wife,"  said  Ali  Kul  decidedly.  "  Mayhap 
they  mean  ill,  but  'tis  writ  fair,  and  no  brave  man  can  refuse." 

Mihr-un-nissa  stood  looking  at  Kutb-ud-din's  message  of 
invitation  with  a  sinking  heart.  But  she  did  not  attempt  to 
over-persuade  her  husband.  She  knew  him  too  well  for  that; 
knew  that  when  once  he  had  made  up  his  mind  as  to  what  an 
honourable  man  should  do,  nothing — least  of  all  personal 
danger — would  turn  him  from  his  purpose. 

;'  When  is  the  hour?"  she  asked  dully. 

"I  have  fixed  dawn,"  he  replied  briefly.  "So  we  have 
the  night  before  us,  O  Queen  of  Women  !" 

A  night  of  nights,  velvet-still,  moonless ;  but  the  fireflies 
showed  them  the  paths  of  the  garden  as  they  wandered  up  and 
down  by  the  light  of  the  stars.  Their  low  voices  were  the  only 
sound  to  be  heard,  for  the  very  cicalas  were  silent.  And  they 
had  much  to  say  to  each  other,  much  to  arrange  calmly,  quietly ; 
for  they  were  both  brave,  and  faced  possibilities  with  firm 
hearts. 

"  If,  as  may  well  be,"  said  Ali  Kul,  "  'tis  a  plot  to  murder 
me,  remember,  dear  heart,  death  is  a  thing  decreed  by  God, 
and  'tis  His  province." 


94  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

She  stopped  him  with  a  swift  gesture.  "  Peace,  husband  !" 
she  replied  in  a  low  deep  voice.  "  If  thou  goest,  which  God 
forbid  !  then  am  I  left  to  judge  alone,  and  before  God  I  will 
avenge  thee ! ' ' 

"  I  will  avenge  myself,"  he  answered  lightly.  "  For  the 
man  lives  not  who  will  send  Ali  Kul  to  find  freedom  in  Para- 
dise without  journeying  to  Hell  himself." 

"Yea,  yea,"  she  assented,  and  there  was  a  trifle  of  im- 
patience in  her  tone,  as  if  she  were  being  tied  down  to  some- 
thing of  little  importance,  while  her  wonderful  eyes  took  on  an 
intensity  of  look  beyond  this  world.  "  That  way  doubtless 
thou  wilt  take  vengeance  for  thyself.  But  there  be  other 

methods "     She   paused    and   smiled    a  marvellous   smile. 

Held  in  it  was  all  the  wile  and  wisdom  of  womanhood,  all  its 
infinite  cunning  and  patient  skill.  "  Yea,"  she  went  on,  "  thou 
shalt  be  avenged  !  The  uttermost  enemy  shall  pay  the  utter- 
most farthing." 

He  smiled  back  at  her  almost  deprecatingly.  "  Be  not  too 
lavish  of  thy  blame,  then,  dear  heart;  for,  see  you,  'tis  never 
fair  to  judge  poor  men  folk  by  what  they  seem  to  do.  'Tis 
only  the  evil  they  really  do  that  merits  punishment,  and  what 
that  is,  God  only  knows.  Let  Him  decide!" 

She  flung  her  arms  around  his  neck  in  a  sudden  passion  of 
love.  Never  in  all  those  twenty  years  of  wedded  life  had  she 
been  so  near  the  Mystery  of  Love  as  she  was  then. 

"Nay,  nay,  dear  heart,"  he  whispered;  "this  is  not  like 
thee.  Quiet  thyself  !  There  is  naught  worth  a  tear." 

Was  it  not?  she  wondered,  as  she  controlled  herself,  and 
hand  in  hand  they  passed  on  into  the  shadows  of  the  garden. 

The  night  slipped  by;  a  primrose  dawn  followed,  without 
a  cloud.  A  greyness  came  first,  then  suddenly  a  glory  of  golden 
light  stretching  to  the  zenith.  A  bulbul  was  singing  to  a  rose 
as  they  walked  down  the  marble-edged  path  leading  to  the 
high-arched  garden  gate. 

"  Farewell,  wife,"  said  Ali  Kul  as  he  vaulted  on  to  his  bay 
Arab.  "  I  return  when  God  wills.  Life  has  been  joy;  it  may 
be  joy  yet." 

Holding  little  Gladness  in  her  arms,  Mihr-un-nissa  from  the 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  95 

corner  bastion  of  the  garden  watched  him  ride  adown  the  road, 
a  simple,  manly  figure,  unarmed,  unattended,  save  by  two  run- 
ning grooms.  He  looked  what  he  was,  a  well-bred,  high-born 
Mahomedan  gentleman,  conspicuous  chiefly  for  his  physical 
strength  and  bravery.  Her  mind  went  back  to  that  first  time 
she  had  seen  his  scarred  face  from  the  bastion  of  the  Garden  of 
Roses,  when  she  was  still  a  child  dreaming  of  childish  things, 
and  it  travelled  onward  until  now ;  yet  in  all  the  long  years  she 
saw  nothing  in  his  treatment  of  her  that  she  would  have  changed. 
So,  with  a  sigh,  almost  acquiescent  in  the  evil  she  felt  was 
coming,  she  turned  away. 

Meanwhile,  AH  Kul  rode  on  cheerfully,  though  he  also 
cherished  few  allusions  as  to  the  future.  They  might,  though 
they  would  scarcely  dare  so  much,  murder  him;  on  the  other 
hand,  the  semblance  of  legality  might  be  observed. 

At  the  entry  to  the  Viceroy's  camp,  a  bevy  of  horsemen  fully 
armed  met  him.  He  shot  one  quick  glance  at  them,  raised  his 
eyebrows  slightly,  then,  following  the  directions  given  in  answer 
to  his  curt  order  to  be  shown  their  master's  tent,  rode  on.  But 
that  one  look  had  been  enough  for  him.  Mischief  of  some 
kind  was  meant. 

At  the  entrance  to  a  large  shamidna  tent  he  dismounted,  gave 
his  horse  to  the  running  grooms,  and  strode  in  for  his  interview 
alone,  unattended.  He  found  the  tent  packed  with  armed  men, 
and  he  set  his  teeth.  This  was  to  be  more  than  a  war  of  words  ! 

The  Viceroy,  a  black-bearded  man  of  about  his  own  age, 
made  feint  to  greet  him  suitably,  but  AH  Kul  waved  his  phrases 
aside. 

"  The  meeting,  my  lord,"  he  said  bluntly,  "  was  to  a  private 
interview.  I  was  bidden  to  come  unarmed,  as  I  have  come. 
Bid  these  men  depart,  or  I  go." 

Something  in  his  bold  bearing  compelled  compliance.  With 
a  hasty  mumble  of  forgetfulness,  Kutb-ud-din  gave  reluctant 
orders  to  retire.  The  tent  emptied  save  for  three  men,  who 
moved  close  beside  their  master.  AH  Kul's  eyes  fixed  them- 
selves on  these  contemptuously. 

"My  body-guard,"  began  the  Viceroy  almost  apologetically. 
AH  Kul  gave  a  quick  laugh. 


96  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

"If  thou  needst  a  guard  against  an  unarmed  man,"  he 
replied  curtly,  "  they  have  my  leave  to  stay,"  and  he  gave  back 
their  angry  scowl  with  interest;  so,  turning  to  the  Viceroy,  made 
a  courteous  salaam  as  he  put  the  query  : 

"What  wishes  my  lord  with  this  slave?" 

"  Obedience  to  my  orders,"  retorted  Kutb-ud-din  sharply. 
"  I  demand  the  instant  attendance  of  thyself  and  thy  house  at 
Agra.  The  Lord  of  the  Universe,  the  mighty  Jahangir,  ordains 
it.  Thou  hast  already  slighted  his  command  in  one  way — see 
that  thou  slight  it  not  again." 

AH  Kul  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height.  The  tent  was 
dark,  but  through  the  shadows  his  eyes  flashed  fire,  though  he 
still  spoke  in  quiet,  measured  tone. 

"  My  lord  mistakes.  I  slighted  the  desire  of  the  Emperor, 
not  his  command.  Not  even  Jahangir  the  Mighty  can  order  a 
man  to  divorce  his  wife." 

"What  treason,  what  defiance  is  this?"  began  the  Viceroy, 
seeking  a  quarrel. 

"  Neither  treason  nor  defiance,  my  lord,"  returned  Ali  Kul, 
still  quietly.  "  Give  to  me  the  authority  by  which  such  demand 
can  be  made,  either  from  the  Holy  Book  or  the  Unwritten  Law, 
and  I  yield.  Divorce  is  the  right  of  the  husband,  not  of  the 
King.  The  command  could  not  be  made;  therefore  treason  is 
not,  since  there  is  no  disobedience." 

So  far  he  had  followed  the  line  of  argument  thought  out  by 
Mihr-un-nissa,  and  the  Viceroy  was  outwitted. 

"  Then  see,"  he  said  sullenly,  "  that  thou  disobey  not  the 
lawful  command  to  attend  the  Most  High's  court  without  delay. 
Thou  and  thy  house." 

Ali  Kul  smiled.  "  For  myself  I  am  at  the  command  of  the 
Most  High.  For  my  house,  I  crave  the  reason  of  this  outrage; 
without  it  I  refuse.  Lo  !  even  Majesty  interferes  not  between 
a  man  and  his  lawful  wedded  wife.  Death  alone  does  that. 
So,  if  Jahangir  the  Mighty  desire  this  slave  to  die,  let  him  do 
murder  here  upon  an  unarmed  man — ha!"  He  turned  quick 
as  lightning  at  a  step  behind  him.  Almost  too  late.  The  fall 
of  a  flashing  knife  grazed  his  right  arm. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEX  97 

"  So  !"  he  shouted,  and  his  voice  was  that  of  a  tiger  at  bay. 
"  If  'tis  to  be  death  I  begin  at  the  beginning." 

And  with  the  words,  disdaining  the  assassin  behind  him,  he 
sprang  at  Kutb-ud-din  as  a  tiger  springs,  clipped  him  round 
the  middle,  tore  him  from  his  feet,  and,  flinging  him  high  in 
midair,  as  a  terrier  does  a  rat,  dashed  him  to  the  ground.  The 
blood  spurted  from  nose  and  mouth;  he  lay  still. 

The  onslaught  had  been  so  swift  that  until  now  the  assassin's 
knife  had  been  Ali  Kul's  only  danger;  but  it  came  again,  this 
time  gashing  in  on  his  shoulder.  With  another  fierce  cry, 
another  lightning  turn,  he  was  round  on  his  foe,  and  one  blow 
from  his  closed  fist  literally  stove  in  the  murderer's  skull. 

And  now,  with  teeth  clenched  and  shortened  breath,  he  faced 
the  three  men  who,  for  a  second,  had  stood  appalled  by  the 
incredible  swiftness  of  his  attack.  Their  swords  were  drawn; 
he  was  unarmed ;  but  to  wrench  one  from  its  owner's  hold  by 
the  point — though  it  cut  his  fingers  to  the  bone — and  turn  to 
against  his  adversaries  was  the  work  of  an  instant.  But  to  do 
this  he  had  had  to  retreat  across  the  tent  almost  to  its  outer 
wall,  ere  he  could  engage  his  opponents.  Then  it  took  but 
short  time  to  stretch  one  at  his  feet  and  disable  another ;  but 
the  clash  of  arms  had  aroused  those  outside,  and  they  were  in 
on  him  ere  he  had  finished  the  third. 

Ay,  the  time  of  Death  had  come,  but  he  meant  to  sell  his 
life  dear.  So,  his  back  against  the  tent  wall  for  shelter,  he 
defied  them. 

A  terrible  sight  truly.  All  the  noble  nature  of  the  man 
turned  to  the  ferocity  of  the  wild  beasts  he  had  so  often  mas- 
tered, every  drop  of  his  kindly  blood  afire  for  slaughter,  every 
atom  of  his  gentle  strength  given  over  to  death-dealing. 

How  many  he  had  killed  he  knew  not,  cared  not.  Others 
remained.  His  tally  of  vengeance  was  not  yet  complete.  He 
had  strength  left  yet 

So,  half  awed,  they  pressed  round  him  as  the  dogs  press 
round  a  wounded  deer,  scarce  daring  to  meet  his  furious 
assaults,  when  suddenly,  with  one  hideous  shout  of  "  Coward  !" 
he  lurched  blindly  forward,  and  the  point  of  his  sword,  driven 
on  by  the  weight  of  his  falling  body,  spitted  his  nearest  foe, 

7 


98  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

overbore  him,  and  they  fell  together.  But  as  he  fell  his  hand- 
grip loosened  on  his  sword,  he  turned  over,  and  lay  face 
upwards,  with  his  empty  sword-arm  outstretched  as  if  in  appeal 
to  High  Heaven,  his  head  pillowed  peacefully  on  his  enemy's 
breast.  He  had  avenged  himself. 

And  someone  outside  the  canvas  tent  wall  withdrew  from  it  a 
long  pointed  dagger  red  to  the  hilt  with  heart's  blood,  and  said 
gleefully  :  "  That  got  the  hell-doomed  one.  He  fought  like 
a  mad  dog  till  this  finished  him." 

They  had  stabbed  him  from  behind.  But  what  mattered  it? 
His  dead  lay  around  him. 

The  Viceroy  still  breathed ;  but  his  skull  was  fractured,  and 
Amba  Khan,  his  deputy,  was  dead.  Likewise  the  assassin 
whose  knife  had  started  the  quarrel,  and  two  others ;  while  the 
grievously  hurt  were  many.  So  Ali  Kul  Istalijii,  even  while 
in  sheer  despite  they  hacked  at  his  dead  body  with  their  swords, 
lay  content  with  a  smile  upon  his  lips.  He  had  not  even  had 
time  to  think  of  Mihr-un-nissa  or  his  little  child ;  he  had  died 
fighting. 

But  over  in  the  Garden  he  had  never  left  Mihr-un-nissa's 
thoughts.  After  leaving  the  bastion  when  he  disappeared  from 
view,  she  had  attempted  to  occupy  herself  otherwise,  had  failed, 
and  had  returned  to  watch  for  a  coming  which  in  her  heart  of 
hearts  she  knew  would  never  come.  She  was  so  sure  of  this 
that  as  she  walked,  dry-eyed,  her  mind  wandered  over  what 
should  be  done  if  he  were  dead.  Like  all  women  of  her  calibre, 
she  was  highly  strung,  what  nowadays  is  called  neurotic.  So 
the  unknown  future,  even  for  a  few  hours,  was  ever  peopled 
for  her  with  possibilities  both  of  evil  and  of  good,  and  as  she 
watched  she  saw  him  lying  dead,  she  anticipated  her  own  grief. 

She  had  not  long  to  watch.  A  riderless  horse,  broken  loose 
from  the  groom's  startled  hold,  told  her  instantly  of  disaster. 
Yet  only  for  one  minute  did  she  give  way,  only  for  one  short 
minute  did  she  sink,  a  cowering  heap,  upon  the  ground^  moan- 
ing in  her  sudden  anguish  :  "  God,  why  didst  Thou  give  me 
Beauty  ?  Why,  oh  why  ?  Lo  !  we  were  content  with  hap- 
piness— we  were  content — content !" 

Suddenly  she  rose,  grief  lost  in  desire  for  vengeance.     This 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  99 

was  no  time  for  tears,  no  time  for  regrets.  Her  mind  must  be 
at  its  best,  to  piece  out  vengeance.  She  sat  for  a  minute  or  tv,  o 
for  thought,  then,  hurrying  from  the  bastion,  bade  the  ser- 
vants lock  the  doors  and  still  their  outcries;  for  by  this  time 
the  running  grooms,  following  fast  upon  the  horse,  had  brought 
word  of  their  master's  death.  Doubtless,  she  said,  he  was 
dead,  but  he  had  died  a  brave  man,  and  there  must  be  no 
cowardice  in  his  house,  or  in  her.-,.  ,7j  swiftly,  knowing  her 
time  might  be  short,  she  set  them  arranging  a  fitting  bier  in  the 
outer  court  of  the  palace.  This  she  decked  with  flowers ;  then 
putting  on  a  widow's  white  robes,  she  shrouded  herself  in  the 
coarse  veil  till  nothing  but  her  face  showed.  A  face  beautiful 
exceedingly,  but  as  terrible  in  its  desire  for  revenge  as  her  hus- 
band's had  been  ere  death  came  to  make  it  peaceful. 

So,  standing  at  the  head  of  the  bier,  she  waited,  until  a 
knocking  came  to  the  outer  door,  and  voices  cried  : 

' '  Open  lt    Open,  in  the  name  of  the  Emperor  ! ' ' 

"  To  whom?"  Her  voice,  strong,  clear,  silvery,  echoed  out, 
and  could  not  be  mistaken  for  that  of  a  servant. 

There  was  a  low-toned  colloquy  outside;  then  someone  said 
with  more  politeness  : 

"  To  the  emissaries  of  the  Viceroy,  honoured  lady." 

"Bid  him  come  himself,"  she  replied  curtly. 

"  But  he  is  dead,"  came  an  incautious  voice. 

"  For  that  may  God  be  praised  !"  she  called  exultingly,  add- 
ing in  colder  tones,  "  Then  let  his  deputy  come  in  his  place." 

This  time  there  was  a  faint  chuckle,  for  paid  mercenaries  and 
jealous  courtiers  have  few  regrets. 

"  He  lives  not  either,  Bibi,"  said  someone  evidently  in 
authority.  "  Neither  do  half  a  dozen  of  our  best  men,  for 
Khan  Ali  Kuli  Khan  Bahadur  sold  his  life  dearly,  as  became — 
himself.  So  we  desire  his  house  no  harm ;  but  we  have  royal 
orders  to  enter  and  arrest.  We  invite  compliance  peaceably. 
If  not " 

"  Slaves,  set  wide  the  doors  !  We  of  this  house  are  loyal  to 
the  law  !"  came  sharp  command  in  interruption. 

The  servants  obeyed,  and  a  party  of  troopers  hustled  in,  then 
stood  doubtful  before  what  they  saw.  It  was  an  empty  flower- 


ioo  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

decked  bier,  at  its  foot  a  child,  wide-eyed,  curious,  at  its  head 
i\  widow  calm  and  stern. 

"  I  claim  my  husband's  body,"  said  the  latter,  addressing 
the  man  who  appeared  to  be  in  command  in  full,  clear  tones. 
"  When  he  hath  been  laid  to  his  rest,  but  not  till  then,  I  obey. 
God  knows  I  will  go  gladly,  since  life  here  has  no  more  to  offer 
to  the  widow  and  the  orphan." 

Something  in  the  very  simplicity  of  the  claim,  its  stern  jus- 
tice and  reasonableness,  struck  home,  even  to  those  rough 
soldiers,  and  after  a  brief  consultation  the  leader  consented  to 
delay.  So,  leaving  a  guard  in  possession,  the  rest  retired,  dis- 
cussing amongst  themselves  the  events  of  the  day. 

"By  God  and  His  prophet!"  said  one,  "here  is  a  pretty 
coil  !  The  Viceroy  and  Amba  Khan — whom  we  can  well 
spare — to  say  naught  of  half  a  dozen  good  men  whom  we  need — 
and  that  counts  not  Ali  Kul  himself,  the  first  of  fighters — all 
stiff  and  straight  because  a  woman's  fair  !" 

"Fair!"  echoed  another.  "  For  my  part  I  saw  naught  of 
fairness  !  Her  face  struck  me  cold ;  but  'tis  the  full  stomach 
that  sees  God,  and  mine  is  empty  as  the  Emperor's  wine-skin ; 
so,  by  Allah  !  let  us  back  to  fill  it." 

Whereat  there  was  a  noisy  laugh,  and  they  jingled  back  to 
camp  merrily.  Yet  were  they  not  without  bowels  of  mercy, 
for  when,  later  in  the  day,  a  slower  procession  came  along  the 
same  road,  the  rough  bier  carried  the  body  of  a  brave  man 
decently  disposed  for  burial,  and  the  scarred  face  was  bare  of 
bloodstains  and  showed  placid,  smiling. 

"  Nay,  let  him  be,"  said  Mihr-un-nissa  tearlessly  when 
Dilaram,  wailing  and  moaning,  would  have  undone  the  shroud 
to  see  where  his  wounds  lay.  "  They  stabbed  him  in  the  back. 
The  grooms  said  so.  That  is  enough  for  revenge." 

Her  calm  was  almost  appalling  in  its  stoniness ;  it  was  as  if  a 
marble  statue  spoke  and  walked  and  acted.  So  they  laid  the 
dead  man  on  his  bier  in  his  own  home,  and  she  went  off  to 
superintend  the  preparation  of  a  grave  in  the  summer-house. 
For  she  had  thought  it  all  out  with  those  clear-seeing,  imagina- 
tive eyes  of  hers,  and  had  realized  that  she  would  have  no  time 
to  raise  a  suitable  mausoleum  for  the  husk  which  had  held  so 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  101 

brave,  so  dear  a  man;  yet  it  could  not  be  left  to  lie  unsheltered, 
uncared  for,  beneath  storm  and  wind  and  rain.  But  in  the 
centre  of  the  summer-house  there  would  be  security ;  and  if  she 
worked  hard  all  night  she  might  be  able  to  cut  the  name  Ali 
Kul  on  the  marble  slab  that  would  lie  over  his  heart;  for 
amongst  her  many  gifts  she  had  somewhat  of  the  carver's 
art. 

"Ali  Kul"  over  his  heart.  That  would  be  enough.  The 
rest  would  be  graven  upon  hers. 

All  the  moonless  night  through,  therefore,  she  sat  chiselling 
by  the  light  of  a  flickering  lamp  beside  her  husband's  bier, 
while  the  fireflies  still  danced  along  the  shady  paths  where  they 
had  walked  together  but  the  night  before. 

When  the  dawn  came — another  cloudless  primrose  dawn — the 
tablet  lay  ready. 

She  Avould  not  look  again  on  the  dead  face,  though  Dilaram, 
her  features  swelled  out  of  all  recognition  by  pent-up  tears,  that 
had  had  to  be  shed  in  secret,  urged  her  to  it  as  a  duty. 

"  Nay,"  she  said  quietly,  "  there  will  be  no  forgetting.  His 
scars  are  graven  on  my  heart." 

Finally,  the  shrouders  came  with  their  monotonous  chant,  and 
the  Kazi,  with  his  texts  and  choristers  to  give  back  the  responses, 
and  all  went  in  orderly  procession  to  the  grave,  in  the  side  of 
which  a  niche  had  been  hollowed  out  coffin-wise.  Such  a  long 
niche  !  but  it  was  a  long  length  that  was  laid  to  rest  within  it, 
while  Mihr-un-nissa  watched,  holding  little  Gladness  by  the 
hand,  and  the  wail  of  the  hired  mourners  echoed  out  into  the 
garden.  She  stood  silent  without  one  tear  till  the  earth  was 
shovelled  in  and  the  marble  slabs  set  back  true  and  level,  with 
the  one  which  she  had  chiselled  with  his  name  just  above  where 
his  heart  should  be. 

Then  she  turned  away,  leading  the  child  by  the  hand. 

"  Send  word  to  the  camp,"  she  said,  "  that  Khan  Ali  Kul 
Bahadur's  house  will  be  ready  at  dawn,  if  fit  and  proper  escort 
be  sent." 

Dilaram  would  have  had  her  spend  the  night  in  packing  up 
valuables,  but  she  would  not  hear  of  it. 

"  Let  the  murderers  and  thieves  take  all.     The  greater  their 


102  M/STRESS  OF  MEN 

sin  the  greater  their  curse.  Such  things  are  of  life,  and  deaf'1 
is  my,  portion. " 

And  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  she  crept  over  to  the  marble 
summer-house  that  was  now  a  mausoleum,  and  crouched  down  on 
the  cold  stones  above  the  heart  which  had  beat  truly,  not  for  her 
•)nly,  but  for  many.  And  suddenly  the  full  meaning  of  the 
tragedy  forced  itself  upon  her,  and  she  sank  prone  on  the  marble, 
laying  her  hot  cheek  upon  it,  while  her  hot  hands  beat  them- 
selves together  unavailingly. 

"Oh,  curses!"  she  moaned — "curses  on  the  beauty  which 
hath  wrought  a  brave  man's  undoing  !" 

And  a  great  contempt  for  that  which  till  then  she  had 
cherished,  and  a  still  greater  contempt  for  the  men  whom  such 
beauty  made  mad,  rose  in  her,  to  remain  for  the  rest  of  her  life. 


CHAPTER  III 

"  Ere  the  Stars  were,  my  Life  was  set  and  planned  ; 
So  to  the  Tavern  while  I  give  command 
God's  messenger  comes,  and,  knocking  at  the  door, 
Shows  the  real  order  in  his  veiled  Hand." 

IT  is  a  far  cry  from  Burchvan  to  Agra;  further  still  to  the  city 
of  Kabul,  where  the  Emperor  Jahangir  was  seeking  pleasure. 

And  surely,  no  more  pleasant  place  could  be  found.  Sur- 
rounded by  snow-clad  hills,  watered  by  many  streams,  set  in  the 
midst  of  enchanting  gardens,  it  showed,  this  middle-June-tide, 
a  perfect  Paradise  of  sunshine  and  blossom.  The  presence  of 
the  great  Imperial  camp  brought  additional  liveliness  to  its 
multi-coloured  bazaars,  while  the  soft  undulations  of  the  gar- 
dened lawns  on  its  outskirts  were  dotted,  as  with  flower-beds,  by 
groups  of  gaily-dressed  sight-seers  enjoying  the,  to  them,  novel 
sensation  of  walking  upon  grass  that  was  soft  as  velvet  under 
their  feet. 

"  Lo  !"  said  a  tall,  stout  man  of  about  forty,  plainly  dressed, 
but  bearing  from  head  to  foot  the  dignity  that  doth  hedge  about 
a  king,  "  to  traverse  this  with  even  sandalled  feet  would  be  an 
outrage  on  propriety  and  good  manners  !"  He  spoke  easily  in 
a  sweet  full  voice,  and  smiled  indolently,  carelessly. 

"  The  Most  Mighty  speaks  truth,"  acquiesced  an  obsequious 
courtier;  "yet  even  the  feet  of  Majesty  must  tire  after  such 
perambulations  as  hath  been  ordained  this  day." 

Jahangir  gave  a  self-satisfied  smirk. 

"  Ay  !"  he  assented.  "  I  do  not  think  I  ever  walked  so  far 
before;  but  truly  the  body  forgets  fatigue  while  the  mind  is  so 
entranced.  See  yonder  cherry-tree.  Do  not  its  fruits,  hanging 
like  globes  on  the  branches,  seem  like  round  rubies  !"  And 
there  was  a  reality  in  his  admiration  which  gave  additional  soft- 
ness to  his  eyes  and  the  contours  of  his  face ;  a  heavy  face  in 

103 


io4  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

itself,  in  which  expression  seemed  over-burdened  by  fleshiness ; 
yet  the  expression  was  there. 

"  Write  that  sentiment  down,  Record-master  !"  ejaculated  the 
elder,  Asaf  Khan,  ecstatically.  "  It  is  worthy  of  immortality." 

And  the  Record-keeper  lingered  behind  a  second  to  set  down 
the  Emperor's  remark  in  black  and  white,  while  the  Imperial 
cortege  moved  on  at  the  rate  of  a  funeral  procession;  for 
Jahangir  was  corpulent. 

It  passed  on  through  the  City-Adorning  gardens,  first  laid  out 
by  one  of  the  great  Baber's  (Jahangir's  great-grandfather)  many 
aunts;  and  paused  awhile  outside  it  where  a  stretch  of  fallow 
ground  sloped  down  to  a  stream.  Here  a  gold-covered  chair 
was  set,  and  one  by  one  the  Emperor  gave  audience  to  architects, 
builders,  designers ;  for  here  he  proposed  to  lay  out  a  new  gar- 
den to  be  called  the  "World-Adorning,"  which  should  be  so 
made  that  for  beauty  and  sweetness  there  should  not  be,  in  the 
inhabited  world,  another  like  it. 

And  herein  the  whole  nature  of  the  man  showed  itself.  What 
his  great  forbears  had  done  that  would  he  also  do,  and,  as  it 
were,  go  one  better  to  boot.  Since  he  had  been  in  Kabul,  the 
spirit  of  his  mountain-bred  ancestors  had  risen  strong  in  him. 

He  had  delightedly  studied  the  priceless  memoirs  of  his  great- 
grandfather, he  had  ordered  his  life  according  to  the  old  pat- 
tern, and  as  he,  somewhat  laboriously,  made  the  round  of  the 
gardens,  he  was  tuning  his  very  mind  to  that  keynote  of  almost 
exuberant  delight  in  Nature  which  gives  us  the  harmonies  of 
Baber's  delightful  book.  He  did  it  unconsciously,  whole- 
heartedly ;  given  the  milieu  of  hardy  soldiers  and  kindly  friends 
his  ancestor  had  had,  who  knows  but  Jahangir  might  have 
touched  reality  in  his  pose?  for  he  was  easily  influenced.  His 
entourage,  however,  was  against  him.  The  very  contractors  for 
the  garden  hid  their  greed  under  the  sycophant's  guile. 

Majesty  must  be  tired ;  Majesty  had  bestowed  his  soul-inspir- 
ing feet  sufficiently  long  on  the  thrice-blest  earth ;  Majesty  should 
enter  its  golden  dhooli  and  repair  to  the  scented  shadows  of  the 
private  apartments.  Wheedlings,  coaxings,  flatterings,  while 
in  the  centre  of  the  posturing  courtiers  sat  the  monarch,  heavy 
of  feature,  blase  of  heart,  yet  fulfilled  withal  with  desire  to  act 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  105 

up  to  the  present  ideal.  A  pitiful  enough  spectacle,  not  without 
its  pathos. 

But  there  was  one  thing  more  to  be  done,  ere  drugged  rest  was 
his.  He  must,  in  company  with  a  select  circle  of  innermost 
Court  ladies,  visit  the  tombs  of  his  ancestors.  Khanzada 
Racquiya  Begum,  for  instance,  had  never  before  visited  her 
grandfather's  grave.  He  must  go  thither  with  her  in  approved 
fashion.  So,  surrounded  by  worshipping  females,  dispensing 
his  sad  smiles  like  a  sacrament  amongst  them,  he  journeyed  to 
the  simple  tomb  overlooking  Kabul  city,  where  Baber  rests. 

"  HEAVEN  IS  THE  ETERNAL  HOME  OF  THE  EMPEROR  BABER." 

So  runs  the  legend  that  uplifts  itself  into  the  empyrean,  as  if  for 
all  worlds  to  see. 

A  noteworthy  group,  this,  above  the  resting-place  of  one  of  the 
most  lovable  men  who  ever  lived.  A  man  of  many  faults,  but 
with  a  heart  large  enough  to  hold  them  all  and  leave  enough  for 
charity — the  greatest  of  all  virtues.  The  small  bowed  figure  of 
old  Racquiya  Begum,  her  heart  full  of  conventional  regrets,  her 
kindly  mind,  under  all  its  pious  reverence,  working  away  at  the 
ode  she  meant  to  compose  on  the  occasion.  She  brought  a  stiff 
posy  of  tight-packed  flowers  to  lay  on  the  grave.  Jahangir, 
fresh  from  the  reading  of  the  Memoirs,  had  a  bunch  of  mountain 
tulips  as  his  offering.  Runners  had  been  sent  to  fetch  them  from 
distant  uplands,  and  Jahangir  felt  a  thrill  of  pride  at  the  appro- 
priateness of  his  own  offering.  For  the  moment  he  was  the  man 
he  wished  to  be ;  for  the  moment  he  was  the  Light  of  the  Faith, 
the  Encircler  of  the  World. 

There  were  tears  in  his  eyes  as  he  looked  out  over  the  glorious 
panorama  of  hill  and  dale,  of  forest  and  stream,  of  earth 
and  sky. 

So  his  great  ancestor  had  stood,  radiant  with  admiration ;  so 
Jahangir  stood,  for  that  ancestor's  attributes  were  latent  in  him. 
But  only  for  a  moment  or  two.  The  time  for  drugged  rest  had 
come.  As  the  gold -encrusted  dJwoli  of  state  jostled  through  the 
bazaar  to  the  Bala  Hissar  palace  he  was  already  half  asleep. 
He  scarce  opened  his  eyes  upon  the  scented  women-folk  who 
crowded  about  his  couch  in  the  private  apartments ;  he  yawned 


io6  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

faint  pleasure  at  a  pet  monkey's  antics  as  he  munched  an 
aromatic  comfit  heavily  laden  with  opium.  So  to  the  sleep 
almost  of  the  dead,  inert,  helpless.  But  there  were  guards  to 
watch  it.  Stalwart  Abyssinian  women  with  drawn  swords  at 
each  door  and  stealthy  footsteps  of  spies  in  the  Persian  carpeted 
corridors ;  for  despots  need  guards,  and  Jahangir  was  despot  if 
ever  there  was  one. 

So  to  wake,  yawning,  at  sunset  and  ride  under  a  .royal 
umbrella,  scattering  rupees,  half-rupees,  and  quarter-rupees  to 
indigent  persons  on  both  sides  of  the  road,  till  he  reached  the 
Shahara  gardens,  which,  in  the  evening  light,  looked  green  and 
fresh. 

Being  Thursday,  the  Emperor  was  giving  a  wine-party  to  his 
intimates,  and  they  were  all  awaiting  his  arrival  in  the  twelve- 
doored  marble  summer-house  that  stood  on  the  very  bank  of  the 
stream  that  ran  through  the  middle  of  the  garden.  A  pellucid 
stream,  no  more  than  eight  feet  wide,  that  rippled  over  a  pebbly 
bottom  with  a  tinkling  babble.  The  sumrnerhouse  was  hung 
with  gold  tissue,  and  set  with  thick  silken  rugs,  and  littered  with 
embroidered  cushions.  Tall  eunuchs  with  jewelled  fans  stood 
ready  to  whisk  away  intruding  flies ;  bare-footed,  obsequious  ser- 
vants flitted  about  with  gold  and  silver  beakers;  from  behind  a 
screen  came  the  fine  whinging  of  a  satara  and  a  man's  voice 
chanting  a  love-song.  Every  now  and  again  a  tiny  boy  dressed 
as  a  girl  came  round  with  a  silver  dish  of  rose-water  and  a 
heron's  plume  brush,  with  which  he  sprinkled  the  air  to  make  it 
cool  and  perfumed. 

Of  enervating  luxury  nothing  lacked  ;  the  very  guests  in  their 
stiff  brocades,  their  faces  set  in  flattering  smiles,  seemed  as  it 
were  mere  stage  properties  to  the  heavy  figure  lolling  on  the 
divan,  its  restless  eyes  roving  about  in  search  of  pleasure. 

"  If  the  Lord  of  the  Universe  consents,  his  slaves  have 
arranged  a  cooking  entertainment  as  a  preliminary,  and 
arghushtak  dances  to  follow  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  stream," 
said  the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies,  touching  the  ground  with  his 
forehead.  "  Is  it  approved?" 

"  Manzttr,"  murmured  the  monarch,  handing  his  golden  beaker 
to  be  refilled. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  icy 

So,  over  the  water,  a  crowd  of  men  and  boys  appeared ;  small 
portable  braziers  were  brought,  filled  with  glowing  charcoal,  and 
ranged  in  two  rows  ;  sides  were  chosen  ;  and  swiftly,  with  laughter, 
singing  and  dancing,  the  bugJira — a  kind  of  long,  very  slippery 
macaroni — was  cooked.  Then  the  fun  began.  Each  side  flung 
the  slithery  comestible  at  the  other  side's  open  mouths,  and  loud 
was  the  merriment  both  amongst  the  competitors  and  the  spec- 
tators as  the  macaroni  was  caught  or  missed.  Even  when  caught 
it  was  no  light  matter  to  swallow  the  long  length. 

"  Quick,  slave,  quick  !"  chuckled  the  Emperor,  as  one  vainly 
tried  to  bolt  a  yard-long  piece  that  in  the  throwing  had  coiled 
itself  round  nose  and  ear.  "  Quick,  or  thy  last  chance  is 
over!" 

It  was  a  booby  game,  but  it  pleased,  and  many  a  cup  of  good 
Shiraz  had  gone  down  ere  it  ended.  Then  came  a  quieter  enter- 
tainment. Twenty  young  men,  and  the  like  number  of  young 
girls,  each  with  great  bunches  of  oleander  blossoms  stuck  behind 
their  ears,  circled  themselves  in  couples  round  a  group  of 
musicians  and  awaited  the  signal  to  begin.  But  custards  and 
confections  were  being  handed  round  to  the  guests,  so  there  was 
a  pause.  Jahangir 's  full  voice  rose  on  it  with  all  the  solemnity 
of  the  half  intoxicated. 

"  'Tis  a  fine  flower-bed.  Mark  you,  chamberlain  !  Who 
.loses  his  oleander  in  the  dance  hath  his  turban  taken  off  to  show 
his  bald  head." 

"  Ha  !  Ha  !  Ha  !  Ha  !  Witty  beyond  compare  !"  cried  one  of 
the  intimates,  while  another  said  unctuously,  "And  if  the 
offender  be  a  female,  what  punishment  hath  the  Crown  of  Intel- 
lectuality ordained?" 

Jahangir  thought  for  a  minute;  then  said  thickly,  "  None. 
Woman,  being  the  flower  of — of  this  world — is — is  exempt." 

A  chorus  of  praise  went  up,  and  the  Court  Recorder's  pen  was 
called  into  use  once  more.  Meanwhile  the  dance  went  on — a 
stately  sort  of  circling  measure,  with  rapid  shiftings  of  feet  and 
clappings  of  hands. 

Jahangir  yawned,  once,  twice.  Then  suddenly  he  held  up  his 
forefinger — the  finger  of  majesty.  The  music  ceased,  the 
dancers  disappeared.  With  cups  in  their  hands  the  onlookers 


io8  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

were  left  staring  at  the  empty  lawn,  across  which  the  moon,  new 
risen,  was  beginning  to  throw  long  shadows. 

"If  it  pleases  the  Shadow  of  God","  came  the  voice  of  the 
impresario  rather  quaveringly,  since  the  last  entertainment  had 
fallen  somewhat  flat,  "  there  be  a  poet  here  who,  though  he  be 
of  the  Hindu  faith,  hath  composed  an  ode  in  honour  of  the 
Most  High,  and  craves  leave  to  recite  it." 

The  Emperor,  now  half  full  of  wine,  gave  an  assenting  hiccup, 
and  a  thin  old  man  came  forward  and  began  to  chant  as  follows  : 

"  If  the  Sun  had  a  son  the  world  would  ever  have  day ; 
Night  would  be  no  more  known  for  ever  and  ever  alway. 
For  when  one  gold-crowned  head  sank  out  of  our  sight 
The  other  would  take  his  place  and  keep  the  world  still  light. 

"  O  King  !  like  the  Sun,  your  father  was  given  a  son 
To  sit  on  his  throne  after  he  went  to  his  rest, 
And  illumine  the  world  as  brightly  as  he  had  done, 
Driving  the  night  of  mourning  from  every  breast  !" 

Atrocious  doggerel  though  the  verses  were,  they  were  received 
with  loud,  fulsome  acclamation  by  the  courtiers,  while  Jahangir 
sat  solemn,  almost  tearful,  thinking  of  his  own  virtues  and  his 
father's.  Contrasted  with  the  chill  purity  of  the  world  outside, 
now  bathed  in  the  light  of  the  new-risen  moon,  there  was  some- 
thing almost  revolting  in  the  artificial  atmosphere  within  the 
summer-house,  where  a  dozen  or  more  of  men  conspired  to  pander 
to  every  weakness,  every  vice  of  another  man.  The  air  was 
heavy  with  adulation,  poisoned  by  insincerity,  infected  by 
intrigue.  From  the  applauding  sycophants  to  the  toothless  old 
man  bowing  and  grinning  over  his  rhymes,  the  miserable  victim 
of  these  wiles  could  not  hope  for  one  helping  hand  to  aid  him  in 
self-government.  It  says  much  for  him,  therefore,  that  his 
mind,  refusing  to  dwell  on  himself,  passed  to  memories  of  his 
father. 

"  'Tis  ten  years  since  I  sat  here  with  that  blessed  one,"  he 
said,  after  having  awarded  an  elephant  to  the  poet  as  reward  for 
his  eulogy — "  ten  years  since  he,  laughing,  bade  me  follow  him 
over  the  stream  yonder.  Could  I  jump  it  now,  I  wonder?" 

'  Wonder  is  unnecessary,"  said  an  intimate  rather  thickly. 
"  The  Lord  of  the  Universe  can  do  all  things." 

It  was  an  unfortunate  remark,  for  Jahangir  was  in  that  pre- 


M/STRESS  OF  MEN  109 

liminary  stage  of  drunkenness  when  everything  seems  cause  of 
quarrel. 

"  How  knowest  thou,  slave,  when  I  know  not  myself?"  he 
asked  angrily,  and  rising  unsteadily  to  his  feet,  he  looked  out 
over  the  water,  shaking  his  head. 

"  Lo  !  I  will  try,"  he  continued,  "  and  thou  shalt  try  also. 
Stay  !  we  shall  all  try  in  turn,  and  thou  shalt  go  first — go  !" 

The  wretched  man  tried  to  excuse  himself.  At  the  best  of 
times  he  could  not  have  compassed  a  six-feet  jump,  and  at  the 
moment  he  was  not  sure  of  his  own  feet;  but  the  fun  of  the 
thing  had  seized  on  Jahangir's  mind,  half  sobering  him,  and  he 
was  eager  as  a  boy  over  the  idea. 

"See  now!"  he  cried.  "Thou  shalt  be  starter,  Mohabat  1 
thou  art  too  old  to  compete — but  the  others  be  all  under  forty — 
now,  Dilawari,  'tis  your  turn  first — jump  !" 

Down  by  the  banks  of  the  stream  they  stood,  the  bevy  of 
courtiers  in  their  stiff  brocades,  Jahangir,  towering  above  most 
of  them,  while  Dilawar  Khan,  after  two  futile  runs,  took  the 
leap.  A  roar  of  half-drunken  laughter  greeted  his  ignominious 
fall  in  midstream. 

"  Swim  !  Swim  for  thy  life,  man  !"  almost  shrieked  the 
Emperor,  beside  himself  with  delight  as  the  miserable  man,  wet 
through,  scrambled  out  of  two  feet  of  water.  Another  and 
another  followed,  one  escaping  with  a  wet  foot  only,  while  one 
cleared  the  jump  easily,  amid  frantic  plaudits,  led  by  Jahangir, 
who  shouted,  "  Captain  of  1,000  horse  for  that,  Afzul  !" 

Last  of  all  came  the  Emperor's  turn.  By  this  time  a  dozen 
Dr  so  of  more  or  less  soaked  sycophants  were  sitting  on  the  oppo- 
site bank,  half  sobered  by  their  dip,  shivering  with  the  chill, 
but  ready  still  with  flattery,  as  Jahangir,  with  a  very  creditable 
effort  considering  his  corporation,  took  a  wild  leap  and  precipi- 
tated himself  on  all  fours  amongst  them,  amid  cries  of  "  The 
Emperor  wins  !  Long  live  the  Pillar  of  the  Faith,  the  Agility 
of  the  World!" 

As  they  helped  him  to  rise,  he  looked  round  on  them  distaste- 
fully. 

"  Yea,  I  have  jumped  it,"  he  said,  "  but  now  that  I  am  nigh 
forty  years  of  age,  I  did  not  jump  it  with  that  activity  I  showed 


no 

when  I  was  thirty  in  the  presence  of  my  revered  father.  So, 
gentlemen,  to  bed,  for  ye  are  wet !" 

The  royal  litter  crossed  the  stream  at  the  word,  the  bearers 
wading  knee-deep  through  the  shallow  stream,  and  the  atmo- 
sphere of  adulation  and  sycophancy  and  flattery  seemed  to  come 
with  it,  as  the  dripping  courtiers  crowded  round  obsequiously, 
bowing,  prostrating  themselves,  calling  on  High  Heaven  to  bless 
His  Imperial  Majesty,  the  Greatest  Monarch  on  Earth  (and, 
incidentally,  the  best  jumper  !).  So  Majesty  ambled  off,  pre- 
ceded by  linkmen,  followed  by  a  posse  of  troopers,  and  flanked 
by  those  unfortunates  whose  duties  were  not  yet  over. 

Thereinafter  peace  reigned  in  the  garden  and  in  the  rest  of 
God's  world.  But  far  away  down  the  valley  on  the  road  that 
trends  from  south  to  north  there  was  a  jingle  of  bells,  and  a  man 
lithe  of  limb,  guiltless  of  clothing,  with  a  pike  over  his  shoulder, 
and  a  hoopoe's  feather  in  his  rag  of  a  turban,  was  running  for 
all  he  was  worth ;  for  he  was  a  Government  harkdru  bringing 
news. 

From  hand  to  hand  it  had  come  through  long  nights  and  days, 
for — as  has  been  said — it  is  a  far  cry  from  Burdwan  to  Kabul 
city ;  but  when  a  royal  messenger  is  waiting  every  six  miles  upon 
the  road,  ready  equipped  to  seize  the  packet  and  start  off  with  it 
at  full  speed,  posts  travel  more  quickly  than  one  would  deem 
possible,  without  the  aid  of  metalled  roads  or  railways. 

And  the  Moguls  were  ever  particular  as  to  their  posts.  By 
field  pathways,  across  hill  and  dale,  through  flood  and  tempest, 
rain  and  snow-storm,  they  might  have  to  go,  but  go  they  must 
and  that  quickly.  Moreover,  night  and  day  they  must  be 
delivered.  And  so,  ere  Jahangir  the  Mighty  retired  to  rest  he 
listened  to  a  letter  which  had  never  paused  a  second  since  it  was 
written  in  far  away  Burdwan.  And  this  is  what  it  said,  after 
the  usual  salutations  : 

"  On  the  3rd  Sufar,  after  the  3rd  watch,  Kutb-ud-din  Khan, 
foster-brother,  obtained  the  Mercy  of  God  in  this  wise.  Hav- 
ing orders  from  the  Most  High  to  bring  All  Kul,.  commonly 
called  Sher  Afkan,  to  Court,  and  if  he  showed  any  futile 
seditious  ideas  to  punish  him,  the  said  Kutb-ud-din  Khan, 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  in 

immediately  the  order  was  received,  went  hastily  to  Burdwan. 
Sher  Afkan,  becoming  aware  of  his  arrival,  went  to  receive  him 
alone,  with  two  grooms. 

"  The  aforesaid  Khan,  knowing  Sher  Afkan's  character, 
immediately  surrounded  him.  This  proceeding  raised  doubts  in 
Sher  Afkan's  mind,  to  relieve  which  the  aforesaid  Khan  gave 
him  a  private  interview,  when  the  vicious  fellow,  drawing  a  con- 
cealed poniard,  stabbed  him  in  several  places.  Amba  Khan 
Kashmiri,  with  loyalty  and  manliness,  rushed  to  his  defence, 
but  also  received  a  severe  wound.  Whereupon  the  troopers  fell 
on  Sher  Afkan,  cut  him  to  pieces,  and  sent  him  to  hell.  It  is 
to  be  hoped  that  the  place  of  this  black-faced  scoundrel  will 
always  be  there " 

So  far  the  Court  reader  had  read  without  interruption,  while 
Jahangir,  the  little  cup  of  aromatic  opium  he  had  been  about  to 
take  still  in  his  hand,  reclined  heavily  on  the  divan,  listening. 
The  more  potent  effects  of  the  wine  he  had  swallowed  had 
passed,  leaving  him  dull  in  intellect,  alert  in  emotion.  Now, 
with  a  sudden  gesture  of  abandonment,  he  tossed  off  his  potion 
and  flung  the  cup  away.  It  crashed  and  shivered  on  the  wall. 

"  Enough  !"  he  cried.  "  Enough  for  to-night !"  Then  he 
leant  forward,  his  dull  eyes  ablaze.  "  Write,  slave,  write  and 
return  by  swiftest  runners.  Jahangir  commands  that  tLe  rebel's 
house  be  treated  with  all  reverence.  So  now  for  dreams — for  by 
God  and  His  prophet  I  am  tired — yea,  weary  of  many  things  !" 


CHAPTER  IV 

"  Friend,  play  no  Game  but  Love  within  the  House 
Of  Life's  illusion  !     Let  the  fool  carouse 
Over  the  wine-cup  !     Keep  thou  to  the  Arch 
That  shelters  Sight  upon  the  loved  one's  brows." 

THE  journey  from  Burchvan  to  Agra  was  necessarily  slow,  yet 
its  very  slowness  served  to  dull  the  tragedy  which  had  preceded 
it.  Day  after  day  Mihr-un-nissa's  tearless  eyes  looked  out  upon 
new  scenes,  day  after  day  she  knew  that,  even  physically,  she 
was  leaving  those  twenty  years  of  happy  life  behind  her.  Every 
rhythmed  footstep  of  her  d/woli-bearers  along  the  dusty  road 
told  her  that  she  was  being  sent  forward  by  Fate.  Sent  to 
what  ?  She  asked  herself  the  question  over  and  over  again,  and 
the  easiest  answer  seemed  death.  If  the  worst  came  to  the  worst 
she  could  always  kill  herself ;  but  to  her  intense  vitality  it  seemed 
a  miserable  thing  to  do.  It  seemed  a  confession  of  failure. 
Even  the  revenge  of  plunging  a  dagger  into  the  real  murderer's 
heart  seemed  poor.  It  would  be  over  in  a  moment,  and  her  soul 
craved  long  drawn-out  punishment.  So  the  days  passed.  With 
an  armed  escort  the  dhoolis  jangled  on  through  the  hot  nights, 
the  bearers  chanting  their  monotonous  appeal  to  keep  step,  to 
amble  straight,  to  think  nothing  of  the  burden,  to  trust  in  God, 
which  by  degrees  seemed  to  sink  into  her  mind  and  still  her 
nerves.  During  the  scorching  day  they  found  shelter  in  some 
friendly  official's  house;  for,  even  without  the  direct  instruc- 
tions, those  who  were  in  charge  treated  her  with  every  distinction. 
To  them  the  position  was  simple.  The  Emperor  had  heard  of 
her  great  beauty.  He  desired  her,  and  she,  being  woman,  would 
jump  at  the  connection.  She  might,  of  course,  stand  out  for 
honourable  marriage,  but  the  result  was  the  same.  With  her 
great  charm,  which  every  man  in  the  troop  felt  through  her 
enshrouding  veil,  she  would  likely  be  favourite ;  therefore  power- 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  113 

ful.  So  they  treated  her  as  if  she  were  already  their  mistress, 
and  allowed  her  such  freedom  as  was  consistent  with  safety. 
Sometimes  in  the  bright  moonlight  nights  that  had  succeeded  the 
dark  ones,  they  would  order  the  bearers  to  set  down  the  dhooli 
at  her  desire,  and  allow  her  to  walk  up  and  down  under  the 
enshading  trees  for  half  an  hour,  while  they  smoked  their  pipes ; 
for,  after  her  outdoor  life,  she  felt  the  need  of  action  sadly. 

One  night,  just  outside  the  city  of  Cawnpore,  where  they 
were  to  rest  some  days,  and  where  she  knew  she  would  neces- 
sarily be  shut  up  within  four  walls,  she  asked  for  this  privilege, 
and  it  was  granted.  She  had  chosen  her  ground  well,  for  an 
avenue  of  glorious  s  his  hum  -trees  stretched  level  down  to  the 
river.  But  for  the  intensity  of  the  white  moon-shafts  that 
barred  the  road  in  lessening  lights  it  would  have  been  dark 
beneath  the  over-reaching  branches.  To  one  whose  past  was  so 
bright,  whose  future  loomed  so  black,  there  was  something 
exhilarating  in  passing  at  a  step  from  shine  to  shadow,  and  then 
back  again  from  shadow  to  shine.  She  wandered  on  to  her  tether 
of  two  hundred  yards  or  so,  and  was  about  to  turn  in  a  longer 
break  of  light  than  usual  when  a  faint  hissing  sound  in  the 
shadow  beyond  made  her  step  forward  curiously,  fearlessly. 

A  snake,  certainly  !  Nay,  two  !  Two  huge  black  cobras  half 
erect,  swaying  with  expanded  hoods;  the  light  caught  their 
glistening  eyes  every  now  and  again.  And  between  them  on 
the  ground,  what  was  that?  Her  sight,  becoming  accustomed 
to  the  shadows,  made  out  the  form  of  an  old  man  lying  face 
downwards  on  the  ground.  From  his  position  it  was  evident  he 
had  fallen  forwards.  He  had  been  carrying  a  bhanghy,  for 
the  yoke  lay  beside  him,  the  baskets  at  either  end  jarred  open 
by  the  fall. 

It  struck  Mihr-un-nissa  in  a  second  that  he  must  have  been  a 
snake-charmer,  and  that  the  two  cobras  were  likely  his  stock-in- 
trade  ;  therefore  harmless.  It  was  as  well,  however,  to  be  on  the 
safe  side,  so,  seeing  the  gourd  flute  of  his  trade  lying  beside  him, 
she  took  it  up  and  blew  into  it ;  for  the  desire  for  adventure,  for 
action,  was  ever  hers. 

The  hollow  note  echoed  out  true  to  tone,  for  she  had  not  for- 
gotten lore  learnt  in  childish  days  from  the  old  snake-charmer  in 


n4  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

the  Garden  of  Roses.  At  the  sound  the  swaying  hoods  wavered, 
sank,  and  like  long  black  ropes  the  creatures  slid  quietly  back 
to  their  baskets. 

Ere  they  reached  them,  some  troopers,  roused  by  the  sound, 
came  running,  and  stood  amazed. 

"  The  Bibi  hath  the  charm  of  the  snake  also,"  said  one  almost 
fearfully  as  she  coolly  held  the  lids  over  the  reptiles,  pressed  the 
latter  down  as  if  she  had  been  accustomed  to  the  task  all  her 
life,  and  then  fastened  the  snicks. 

She  was  on  her  knees  by  this  time  examining  the  fallen  man. 
"  He  bleeds  still,"  she  said,  "  and  'tis  from  a  wound  in  the 
back.  There  hath  been  treachery,"  she  added  with  a  sudden 
inrush  of  sympathy,  "  but  he  still  lives " 

"  Ay,"  said  a  trooper  callously  as  they  turned  the  wounded 
man  over.  "He  breathes  still;  but  not  for  long,  since  there 
are  none  to  succour  his  wound  here  on  the  high  road." 

Mihr-un-nissa  stood  up,  autocratic.  "  There  be  travellers, 
as  he  was.  How  far  is't  to  the  city?  A  mile,  or  two,  or  three? 
Then  I  walk,  he  has  my  litter." 

There  was  no  gainsaying  her ;  indeed,  admiration  for  a  cour- 
age rare — nay,  almost  unknown — to  their  experience  of  woman- 
hood would,  anyhow,  have  prevented  opposition. 

So  through  the  moonlight,  wrapped  in  her  thick  veil,  Mihr- 
un-nissa  walked  by  the  side  of  the  litter  that  held  Dilaram  and 
the  child.  Ere  she  had  gone  a  dozen  yards,  however,  she  turned 
back  suddenly. 

"  The  snakes  !"  she  said.    "  God's  creatures  must  not  starve  !" 

"  Nay,  Bibi,"  remonstrated  the  Captain  of  the  Guard  hur- 
riedly. "  Wouldst  let  loose  death  upon  the  world?" 

She  gave  a  short  laugh.  "Ay,  that  would  I,"  she  said 
bitterly;  for  she  was  of  two  moods.  One,  open  resentment  at 
all  men ;  the  other,  pity  for  those  who  suffered. 

Dilaram  would  have  got  out  and  walked  herself,  but  her  mis- 
tress was  firm;  they  would  never  reach  Cawnpore  at  her  rate; 
she  had  better  stay  where  she  was  and  let  those  who  could  walk. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that,  more  light-hearted  than  she  had  yet 
been,  Mihr-un-nissa,  invigorated  by  the  welcome  exercise,  found 
herself  in  the  early  dawn  attending  to  the  wound  of  the  man  she 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  115 

had  picked  up  on  the  road ;  for  she  was  learned,  as  her  mother 
was  also,  in  the  use  of  simples.  He  was  still  unconscious — or 
nearly  so,  for  he  swallowed  the  medicament  she  gave  him  in  the 
red  crystal  cup — but  this  appeared  to  be  due  more  to  a  blow  on 
the  head,  or  his  fall ;  for  the  wound  seemed  to  be  that  of  a 
knife,  which  had  glanced  off  his  ribs.  So  she  left  him  in  the 
care  of  a  door-keeper,  and  later  on  in  the  day  sent  Dilaram 
to  see  how  he  fared.  The  latter  found  him  greatly  recovered, 
propped  up  against  the  dark  corner  of  the  cell  where  he  had 
been  left.  Her  first  glance  at  him  brought  her  disturbance. 
Where  had  she  seen  that  face  before?  She  was  puzzling  her 
brains  when  the  old  man,  salaaming  down  to  the  ground,  said 
quietly  : 

"  Hath  the  milk-white  goat  served  its  purpose,  O  !  nurse  of 
royalty?" 

Then  she  sat  down  amid  her  flouncing  skirts  in  breathless 
recognition. 

"  Strangler  !"  she  gasped.  "What  doest  thou  hither,  after 
all  these  years?" 

"Thirty  and  five,"  he  answered.  "  Lo  !  I  was  not  young 
then.  To-day  I  am  old  beyond  most  men's  years;  yet  am  I  fit 
for  my  work — ay,  more  than  most  men,  though  the  Bunglers 
think  not  so." 

"Dost — dost  strangle  still?"  asked  Dilaram  in  a  tremulous 
whisper. 

He  nodded.  "  Ay,  when  I  have  the  chance;  but  it  comes  not 
often  when  one  is  full  of  years.  Yet  was  I  the  Head.  That 
is  why  the  Bunglers  would  have  killed  me;  but  they  bungled, 
as  ever." 

Dilaram  snorted ;  she  was  beginning  to  lose  her  dread  of  the 
man.  "Traa!"  she  said.  "Bungling  would  neither  have 
been  in  three  or  thirteen  had  not  my  mistress  rescued  thee  from 
snakes  and  wounds,  and  dust  and  death,  and  God  knows  what ! 
So  there!" 

He  salaamed  again  to  the  very  ground.  "This  slave  knows 
that,"  he  replied.  "  He  knows  also  that  royalty  still  holds  the 
jogi's  luck.  He  drank  of  it  last  night.  It  brought  life  to  him; 
so  he  owes  life  to  the  holder  of  it  for  ever,  and  ever." 


n6  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

He  droned  the  last  words  out  as  if  sleepy,  laid  his  head  hack 
against  the  wall,  and  closed  his  eyes. 

Next  morning  he  had  disappeared,  rather  to  Dilaram's  relief. 

"  Bungler  or  Strangler,  I  like  not  the  breed,"  she  said  as  she 
told  the  tale  to  her  mistress.     "  Hadst  the  Bibi  seen  done  what 
I  saw  that  night  in  the  tent  she  would  find  a  difficulty  in  swal- . 
lowing  even  as  this  slave  does."     And  she  cleared  her  throat 
ostentatiously. 

Mihr-un-nissa,  looking  listlessly  out  of  window,  said  dryly  : 
"  'Tis  pity  he  hath  gone.  He  might  have  proved  useful."  She 
was  thinking  of  the  future  which  she  knew  must  be  coming. 

After  that,  the  journey  onwards  was  without  incident,  save 
that  more  than  once  a  trooper  in  the  escort  would  say  to  his 
neighbour  : 

"  Hark!  the  black  partridge  cry  once  more!  I  like  it  not. 
There  be  Stranglers*  about!"  And  his  neighbour  would  look 
keenly  through  the  tufts  of  tall  tiger-grass  and  tighten  his  grip 
on  his  sword. 

Arriving  in  Agra,  Mihr-un-nissa,  her  child,  and  Dilaram  were, 
as  the  former  had  expected,  given  over  to  the  care  of  the  Keeper 
of  the  Royal  Harem.  Practically  they  were  prisoners,  though 
they  were  allowed  to  see  visitors.  Ghiyass-ud-din  was  away 
with  the  Imperial  camp,  but  Bibi  Azizan  came  in  hot  haste,  full 
of  gushing  if  somewhat  insincere  sympathy.  She  found  herself 
repelled.  Mihr-un-nissa  could  not  forget  her  lack  of  it  for  her 
husband.  Almost  fortunately,  however,  there  was  a  common 
grief  which  they  could  bewail  together.  For  news  had  just 
come  from  Kabul  of  a  conspiracy  against  Jahangir's  life  in 
which  Mihr-un-nissa's  brother  Sharif  was  heavily  implicated, 
and  for  which — quite  justly — he  paid  with  his  life. 

"Lo!"  wept  Bibi  Azizan,  "I  have  told  him  full  oft  what 
would  be  the  end  of  his  favouring  Prince  Khushrau.  But  he 
hath  had  an  ill  spite  at  the  Most  High,  ever  since  he  was  Prince 

Salim,  and  "     The  good  lady  paused  in  her  tears.     The 

reminiscence  was,  under  the  circumstances,  scarcely  tactful,  for 
her  heart  was  high  with  hope. 

*  The  Thugs  or  Stranglers  use  the  call  of  the  black  partridge  as  their 
warning  cry. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  117 

Her  pause,  however,  was  too  late,  for  Mihr-un-nissa  said 
quietly  :  "  Ay,  he  ever  favoured  me,  did  Sharif,  even  as  a 
lad.  And  Heaven  only  knows  what  'twas  that  made  him  thus 
rash — now  !" 

She  sat  silent,  her  eyes  travelling  over  the  distant  landscape 
of  curving  river  and  wide  plain  which  was  visible  from  the  bal- 
cony of  her  turret  room.     It  might  well  be  so,  she  thought.    Yea, 
it  might  well  be  that  her  brother,  hearing  in  Kabul,  whither  he 
had  gone  as  attendant  on  the  disgraced   Prince,  of  Ali  Kul's 
murder  and  her  capture,  had  with  his  usual  hot-blooded  resent- 
ment resolved  to  compass  Jahangir's  death  in  revenge.      If  this 
were  so,  she  could  not  blame  him;  and  circumstances  favoured 
this  explanation.     The  Emperor  had  left  Kabul  city,  averring 
that  he  had  tasted  all  its  pleasures,  and  was  anxious  to  go  on  his 
desired  way,  almost  immediately  after  the  news  from  Burdwan 
must  have  reached  him.     He  had,  in  fact,  commenced  the  return 
journey  with  unwonted  haste.      At  the  second  march  out,  the 
conspiracy  to  kill  him  during  one  of  his  daily  hunting  expeditions 
had  been  discovered,  condign  punishment  had  been  meted  out  to 
three  of  the  ringleaders,  but  without  fuss,   for  fear  of  delay, 
while  Prince  Khushrau  had  reverted  to  the  chains  from  which 
he  had  been  released  while  Jahangir,  in  Kabul,  had  been  imitat- 
ing the  clemency — amongst  other   things — of   his   great-grand- 
father Baber. 

Mihr-un-nissa,  wearily  awaiting  developments,  felt  that  once 
again  her  beauty  might  be  responsible  for  death.  She  had  not 
seen  Sharif,  her  brother,  for  years,  he  had  ever  been  unreliable ; 
but  he  was  her  brother,  and  the  possibility  that  he  had  died  in 
defence,  as  it  were,  of  her  husband,  made  his  death  all  the  more 
grievous ;  though  with  her  usual  clear-sightedness  she  admitted 
his  punishment  was  just,  inevitable. 

Majesty  could  be  maintained  no  other  way. 
Dilaram,  returning  from  the  bazaar  with  her  purchases  of 
food — for  from  the  first  Mihr-un-nissa  had  refused  to  eat  the 
Emperor's  salt — found  her  mistress  in  the  balcony  at  her  tam- 
bour-frame. She  had  set  to  work  at  once  on  embroidery  as  a 
means  for  making  money,  and  being  keenly  alive  to  the  necessity 
for  quick  return,  was  hastily  turning  out  cheap,  easily  sold  caps 


n8  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

in  preference  to  more  elaborate  work  which  would  take  time  in 
preparation.  That  could  come  after,  meantime  it  was  food  she 
required,  and  must  have.  Even  in  such  small  things  her  mind 
was  curiously  clear;  even  in  commerce  she  would  have  made 
her  way. 

She  counted  out  a  dozen  of  the  caps  and  flung  them  across  to 
Dilaram. 

"  That  for  thy  purchases,"  she  said  lightly — "  two  annas  each 

beyond  the  cost  of  stuffs.     The  rest  I  keep  to  pay " 

"For  the  mistress's  shroud  mayhap,"  retorted  Dilaram 
crossly.  "  Lo  !  the  Bibi  grows  thin,  and  'tis  not  becoming." 

"  Thank  God  for  that  !"  replied  Mihr-un-nissa  with  sudden, 
almost  overpowering  earnestness ;  for  that  coming  interview  with 
the  Emperor  which  she  foresaw  was  ever  at  the  back  of  her  mind. 
Not  that  she  was  afraid.  If  the  worst  came  to  the  worst  it  was 
but  death.  And  through  that  Great  Adventure  Ali  Kul  had 
already  passed.  She  would  find  his  lost  companionship  there. 

Meanwhile,  all  her  care  must  be  to  secure  safety  and  freedom 
for  his  child.  But  here  a  difficulty  arose.  If  little  Gladness 
went  to  her  grandmother,  which  was  feasible,  since  none  wanted 
to  imprison  the  poor  child,  Dilaram  must  go  with  her;  to  none 
other  would  Mihr-un-nissa  trust  her.  This,  however,  would 
leave  the  Bibi  without  anyone  on  whom  she  could  rely,  without 
even  a  faithful  messenger  between  her  and  the  world,  and  to 
this  the  old  nurse  would  not  agree.  Yet  it  was  difficult  in  Agra 
to  find  a  substitute.  In  Burdwan  it  would  have  been  easy ;  there, 
all  were  devoted  to  Ali  Kul  and  his  house. 

So  matters  stood  when  one  day  the  harem  door-keeper  reported 
an  old  woman,  ancient  servitor  of  Ghiyass-ud-din's  house,  who 
desired  to  kiss  the  feet  of  her  patron's  child. 

"  'Twill  be  old  Amina,  the  cook-woman,"  said  Dilaram,  nod- 
ding approval  from  the  carrots  she  was  scraping  for  a  stew.  "  I 
saw  her,  seeking  this  servant  a  while  back,  and  she  said  she 
could  not  virtuously  die  in  peace  till  she  had  sought  dismissal 
from  the  Bibi  whose  first  food  she  cooked." 

"Bid  her  in,"  said  Mihr-un-nissa,  smiling.  But  it  was  not 
old  Amina;  it  was  a  stranger  neither  of  them  had  seen  before. 
A  quaint,  wrinkled  old  woman,  scanty  of  teeth  and  hair  and 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  119 

veil,  but  withal  respectable  to  a  degree,  who  prostrated  herself 
on  the  ground,  then  rose  to  stand  with  bent  head  and  hands 
joined  after  the  most  approved  etiquette. 

"  What  will'st  thou,  mother?"  asked  Mihr-un-nissa  kindly. 

"  This  slave  seeks  permission  to  pay  back  what  she  owes  to 
the  noble  people,"  came  the  answer  in  a  high  cracked  voice. 
"  Being  past  work  as  maid-servant,  she  seeks  service  as  market- 
woman  and  messenger." 

"  But  who  and  what  art  thou?"  asked  Mihr-un-nissa  again. 

The  old  woman  gave  one  sharp  look  round ;  the  harem  ser- 
vants had  retired,  leaving  them  alone.  Then  she  advanced 
quickly,  squatted  down  close  to  the  tambour-frame  in  full  light, 
and  said  quietly,  as  a  deft  twist  was  given  to  her  veil : 

"  If  the  Bibi  will  look  carefully  she  may  see." 

Mihr-un-nissa's  needle  hand  hung  arrested  over  her  work  in 
sheer  astonishment.  The  face  before  her  changed  as  if  by 
magic  from  woman's  to  man's,  every  feature  seemed  to  alter, 
the  very  dress  seemed  different.  Dilaram,  who  was  looking  also, 
gave  a  gasp  and  sat  transfixed. 

"  The  Strangler  !"  she  muttered  helplessly.  "  The  Strangler  I 
God  help  us  all  !" 

"Yea,"  assented  the  latter  cheerfully.  "That  am  I,  by 
caste  and  occupation.  And  we  are  men  of  many  faces,  for  we 
need  the  trick  in  our  trade."  He  gave  a  little  low  laugh,  drew 
down  the  veil,  and  was  woman  again.  "  If  the  noble  lady  will 
listen,  I  will  tell  her  why  I  come.  It  is  for  service — to  the  death 
if  need  be.  And  the  noble  lady  is  in  danger — more  than  she 
knows.  After  she  gave  me  to  drink  out  of  the  Cup  of  Luck — 
yea,  though  I  was  not  in  the  body,  I  saw  the  gracious  act — I 
found  out  the  danger.  There  are  those  here  who  wanted  her  not, 
who  would  she  died  on  the  road.  So  the  cry  of  the  black  par- 
tridge " — he  gave  it  suddenly  loudly,  with  such  deadly  accuracy 
of  tone  that  both  women  started — "  was  heard  many  times  from 
the  watchers.  For  I  am  still  Chief  of  the  Tribe,  for  obedience, 
though  I  grow  too  old  for  execution.  And  now  there  is  danger 
still";  his  dark  eyes  fixed  themselves  on  the  beautiful  face 
before  him.  "  Lo  !"  he  continued  with  a  faint  smile,  "  beauty 
is  ever  in  danger  from  the  world  that  is  ugly,  and  many  things 


120  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

are  ugly  in  the  world.     So  I  come  to  sit  in  the  outer  room,  and 

watch,  and  buy  the  food  and  cook " 

Dilaram,  who,  half  hypnotized  by  the  low  chanting  voice,  had 
mechanically  resumed  her  work  of  scraping  carrots,  here  inter- 
posed, as  she  scraped  harder  than  ever  : 

"  Traa  !  Cook,  indeed.  A  likely  story.  Thy  kind  are  like 
the  glutton — eat  all  things  with  legs  or  wings  save  a  paper  kite 
and  a  bedstead.  Not  so  the  noble  people  !  Besides,  thou  art 
too  old — if  ever  thou  hadst  skill  it  hath  gone — with  thy  teeth  and 
hair — in  relics,  mayhap,  like  the  saints  beard.  Ah.  .  .  !" 

She  finished  with  a  little  shriek.  Something  long  and  crimson 
had  shot  out — how,  Heaven  only  knew  ! — from  her  hearer's 
hands,  and  there  were  hers  noosed  tight  round  the  wrists,  clipped 
together,  helpless,  while  the  carrot  and  the  knife  fell  clattering 
to  the  ground. 

"  The  skill  hath  not  gone  altogether,  sister,"  said  the  Strangler 
affably.  "  Let  the  Bibi  judge  if  I  am  too  old  to  be  of  use." 

Mihr-un-nissa's  brows  levelled  themselves  thoughtfully ;  her 
face  grew  hard,  almost  savage,  and  something  in  her  seemed  to 
leap  out  gladly  to  the  deadly  instrument  of  death. 

"  Show  me  the  Noose,"  she  said  imperatively.  But  in  her 
hand  it  showed  merely  a  worn  strip  of  silk  stained  by  much  use, 
though  as  she  slipped  it,  soft  and  compressible,  through  her 
ringers,  she  felt,  as  Dilaram  had  averred,  a  tightness  about  her 
own  throat. 

"  Thou  canst  stay,"  she  said  suddenly,  briefly. 
So  in  the  old  woman's  guise  the  old  man  was  installed  as 
door-keeper,  messenger,  and  general  go-between.  Dilaram  came 
at  first  every  day  to  see  to  the  cooking,  but  after  a  time  acknow- 
ledged that  she  was  but  a  tyro  in  the  art,  while  in  marketing  the 
Strangler  was  far  beyond  her. 

"  Likely,"  she  would  say,  darkling.     "  He  steals  the  things." 
But  it  was  not  so.     It  was  only  that,  as  one  of  a  secret  guild 
extending  everywhere,   he  had  a  thousand   avenues   for  power 
open  to  him. 

Long  before  the  Palace  had  heard  anything,  Phusli* — for  by 
that  name  the  old  man  had  suggested,  with  a  grin,  he  might  be 
*  Lit.,  "entangled." 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  121 

called — would  come  back  from  the  bazaar  with  news  of  this,  that, 
and  the  other;  news  that  was  always  fairly  correct.  "The 
Emperor  is  hurried;  but  he  is  delayed.  There  is  time  yet,"  he 
would  say,  and  it  was  true. 

So  the  days  went  on.  It  had  been  nigh  a  two  months'  jour- 
ney from  Burdwan,  and  now  five  months  passed,  and  Mihr-un- 
nissa,  still  in  her  white  widow's  robe — for  she  resolutely  declined 
the  fine  clothes  and  jewels  offered  her — sat  in  her  balcony 
embroidering  and  thinking.  She  knew,  or  thought  she  knew, 
what  lay  before  her,  and  prepared  for  it  solidly ;  though  how 
revenge  was  to  come,  whether  by  the  dagger  she  carried  herself, 
or  the  Noose  which  waited  day  and  night  in  the  ante-room, 
depended  upon  chance. 

And  in  the  end  she  was  completely  taken  by  surprise.  Phusli 
had  spoken  of  a  halt  at  Delhi,  and  a  hunt  for  game,  yet  as  she 
sat  in  her  canopied  balcony  one  evening  watching  the  distant 
lights  of  the  city,  she  heard  a  step  in  the  room  behind  her,  and 
a  voice,  assured  yet  cautious,  said  :  "  Has  Shaikie  permission  to 
interview  his  old  playmate?" 

The  moment  had  come  at  last  !  Drawing  her  white  veil  round 
her  closely,  and  at  the  same  time  unsheathing  the  dagger  she 
always  carried  hidden  in  her  breast,  she  rose  to  her  feet. 

"  Prisoners  have  no  choice,  my  lord;  that  lies  with  those  who 
have  power,"  she  replied  coldly,  though  his  address  had  startled 
her. 

The  next  moment  Jahangir  stood  before  her. 

The  light  of  the  cresset  by  which  she  had  been  working  played 
on  the  silver  tissue  of  the  robe  about  his  feet ;  the  light  of  the 
moon  showed  on  his  face,  over  massive  but  handsome.  Fraught 
with  terrible  possibilities  as  the  hour  was,  she  was  yet  conscious 
that  her  first  thought  came  thus  :  "  He  is  taller  and  bigger." 

Such  trivialities  will  intrude  themselves  even  upon  tragedy. 

Apparently  he  was  startled  by  her  appearance,  for  he  stopped 
abruptly  some  paces  from  her,  and  passed  his  hand  over  his  fore- 
head as  if  to  brush  away  some  unwelcome  thought.  Then  he 
spoke,  one  word  : 

"  Mem  !"     It  was  the  childish  abbreviation  of  her  name. 

Startled  again  by  something  in  his  tone,  she  did  not  reply,  and 


122  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

he  stood  silent,  his  face  all  broken  up  by  passionate  emotions. 
Then  she  said  bitterly  : 

"  My  lord  might  tell  his  slave  what  he  desires " 

The  taunt  seemed  to  unlock  his  lips,  give  him  the  clue  to 
action. 

"  When  there  has  been  but  one  woman  in  the  world  for  a  man 
these  twenty  years,"  he  said,  stepping  towards  her  arrogantly, 
"  and  she  stands  before  him,  'tis  idle  to  ask  what  he  desires." 

"Stand  back,  my  lord!"  she  cried,  stretching  out  her  left 
hand  in  negation,  the  right  gripping  the  dagger  beneath  her  veil. 
"  Seest  thou  not  the  corpse  of  a  murdered  man  between  us?  Go 
not  near  it,  lest  it  rise  and  kill  thee." 

He  obeyed  her  gesture,  but  narrowed  his  eyes  as  if  in 
perplexity. 

"  Dost  mean  thy  brother?"  he  asked  quietly.  "  Sure,  if  ever 
death  was  justly  meted  to  a  man,  it  was  to  him.  Thou  canst  not 
think  otherwise." 

Her  scorn,  her  passion,  flamed  up,  her  voice  vibrated  harshly. 

"  Art  thou  a  man,  O  Nur-ud-din  Jahangir,  thus  to  seek 
escape  from  thine  own  deeds  ?  Thou  knowest  'tis  the  dead 
body  of  Ali  Kul  my  husband,  foully  murdered  by  thine 
order." 

There  was  a  second's  silence,  then  the  answer  came  quietly  : 

"  I  gave  no  order — I " 

"  Thou  liest  !     Yea,  to  thy  face,  Salim,  I  say  it 

"  Nay  !  By  God  and  his  prophet  I  swear  !  I  bade  them 
bring  him  hither — I " 

The  passion  died  from  her  voice,  the  scorn  remained.  "  Thou 
badest !  Yea  !  Yea  !  Thou  didst  bid  him  give  up  honour, 
give  up  manhood,  and  he  gave  up  life  instead.  Better  that  than 
live  as  thou  dost,  drunken,  debauched,  dishonoured " 

Jahangir  stood,  his  chest  heaving,  his  face  terrible  in  its 
sudden  rage,  his  hands  stretched  out  towards  her,  clasping  and 
unclasping  themselves  as  if  they  would  clutch  at  her  throat. 

"  Peace,  woman  !  Peace  !"  he  muttered  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 
"Peace,  or  I  kill  thee!" 

Like  a  flash  her  hand  sped  out  with  the  dagger. 

"  Take  it !"  she  cried  superbly.     "  Yea,  take  it  and  kill  the 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  123 

wife  as  them  didst  kill  the  husband.     Take  it,  or  I  do  the  deed 
myself!" 

With  a  cry  he  was  on  her,  but  only  to  snatch  the  dagger  from 
her  grip  and  fling  it  from  him.  Then  he  stood  back  once  more. 

Ay,  he  was  strong  enough,  this  drunken  murderer — this 

"  Mihr-un-nissa,  wilt  not  listen?"  his  voice,  suddenly 
appeased,  came  in  almost  agonized  appeal.  "  Lo  !  all  these 
years  I  have  loved " 

"  Defile  not  love's  name  with  thy  lewd  lips,"  she  interrupted 
roughly.  "  What  dost  know  of  love  save  what  the  wine-cup 
teaches?  Thou  hast  thy  one  woman  in  the  world  at  thy  mercy 
here — here  in  this  palace-prison — here  amongst  thy  wretched 
minions.  If  thou  desirest  Mihr-un-nissa,  O  Emperor  of  the 
World,  O  Light  of  the  Faith,  O  miserable  man,  why  dost 
hesitate?  She  stands  before  thee,  woman — and  thou  art  strong 
man!" 

Beside  herself  with  hot  resentment  and  passionate  anger  that 
she  should  be,  as  she  knew  herself  to  be,  the  weaker  in  body,  she 
flung  her  veil  from  her  with  a  superb  gesture,  and  stood  revealed 
in  all  her  beauty,  all  her  charm. 

But  her  mind,  her  soul,  herself,  were  far  from  him.  They  were 
with  the  Noose  of  Death  that  waited,  she  knew,  beyond  the 
closed  door. 

For  one  instant  Jahangir  stood  as  it  were  blinded  by  what  he 
saw.  Then,  his  face  set,  he  shrank  back  into  the  shadow  and 
was  silent.  When  he  spoke  his  voice  had  a  break  in  it. 

"  That  ends  it  all  !"  he  said.  "  Thou  dost  not — nay,  thou 
canst  not  understand.  Yet  shalt  thou  listen,  woman,  who  knows 
not  what  love  is,  yet  dares  to  talk  of  its  defilement.  Yea  ! 
Yea !  I  am  drunken,  I  am  debauched,  mayhap  I  am  dis- 
honoured !  Let  that  be — I  care  not.  Thou  hast  said  I  lie.  I 
care  not  for  that  either.  It  doth  not  change  me  or  thee.  For 
twenty  long  years,  against  my  will  I  have  remembered,  I  have 
regretted,  I  have  resented.  Then,  when  power  came,  I  spoke 
the  trickster  fair " 

"Thou  didst  ask  him  for  his  honour,"  broke  in  Mihr-un- 
nissa  coldly. 

"  I   asked,   as  King,    for  what  the   King  desired,"   replied 


i24  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Jahangir,  his  tone  changing  to  one  of  arrogant  power.     "  Have 
I  no  right  to  that?     Then,  when  he  refused  I  sent  for  him " 

"  What  need,  my  lord,  to  repeat  the  falsehood?" 

A  fierce  sigh  like  that  of  an  angry  tiger  came  from  the 
shadows ;  then  the  strong  man  turned  his  face  to  the  cool  marble 
pillar  for  an  instant  and  rested  his  hot  forehead  on  its  chill 
hardness.  So  standing,  he  spoke  more  quietly  : 

"Thou  canst  not  understand,  Meru  !  Thou  hast  no  pity — 
love  is  far  from  thee ;  would  to  God  it  were  far  from  me  !  All 
these  long  years  I  have  dreamt  of  thy  companionship.  I  have 
dreamt  so  often  that  we  played  together  as  we  played  as  chil- 
dren. And  now — oh,  woman,  woman  !  Thou  dost  tell  me  thou 
art  at  my  mercy,  when  I  would  die  a  thousand  deaths  rather 
than  touch  the  hem  of  thy  garment  against  thy  will.  Yea,  that 
ends  it  for  ever.  Thou  dost  not  understand.  Farewell  !" 

He  turned  to  go,  but  she,  remembering  the  Noose  of  Death  at 
the  door,  arrested  him.  "And  afterwards?"  she  asked. 

He  glanced  at  her  sharply.  His  emotion  was  passing,  his 
heart  was  hardening.  "  Thou  remainest  in  safe  keeping  like 
other  high-born  ladies,"  he  replied.  "  And  none — not  even  the 
Emperor  Nur-ed-din  Jahangir — shall  molest  thee." 

She  was  at  the  door  now,  opening  it  for  him  to  pass  through. 

As  he  did  so,  he  bowed  slightly  in  acknowledgment.  Some- 
thing in  the  dark  corner  of  the  anteroom  stirred  softly  like  a 
sleepy  snake,  then  settled  to  rest  again.  The  Noose  of  Death 
was  not  required  that  night. 

And  Mihr-un-nissa  watched  the  tall  figure  disappear  in  the 
shadows  of  the  arcade,  then  shut  the  door  and  returned  stonily 
to  the  balcony.  Once  there,  however,  her  calm  gave  way.  She 
fell  on  her  knees,  rested  her  head  on  the  balustrade  of  the  bal- 
cony, and  with  arms  outstretched  to  the  stars  that  twinkled  on  so 
relentlessly  overhead,  gave  way  to  a  perfect  passion  of  tears. 

They  were  the  first  she  had  shed  since  her  husband's  death. 


CHAPTER  V 

"  Seek  not  Life's  story  from  the  painted  art 
That  decks  the  cloistered  Walls,  or  secret  Heart 
Of  Drunkenness  from  those  of  sober  mind. 
Cloister  and  Wine-shop  lie  not  far  apart." 

"Lo  !"  said  the  Strangler  mournfully  as  he  sat  by  the  marble 
summer-house  in  the  Garden  of  Roses  where  Mihr-un-nissa  had 
played  as  a  child.  "I  be  of  little  use  nowadays.  Save  for 
the  hell-doomed  thief  who  would  have  stolen  the  Khanzada's 
jewels,  my  Noose  lies  idle — except  as  a  child's  plaything." 

And  once  again  the  curved  crimson  rope  shot  out  in  the  game 
that  was  being  played,  this  time  to  twine  round  little  Gladness's 
legs  and  set  her  a-shouting  with  laughter. 

She  ran  off  down  the  garden  path,  up  which  her  mother  was 
coming  with  a  basket  full  of  rose-leaves,  calling  out  delightedly 
as  she  ran,  "  Amma-jan,  amma-jdn,  Phusli  caught  me!  Yea, 
verily,  Phusli  caught  me  !" 

Dilaram,  once  more  packing  candied  rose-leaves  into  silvern 
baskets,  looked  up  and  frowned  reprovingly.  "  Thou  mightest 
have  made  the  child  fall.  Why  canst  thou  not  miss  always?" 

The  old  man  in  woman's  clothes  shook  his  head  deprecatingly. 
"  Art  will  out  at  times,  sister,"  he  replied  submissively.  "  And 
if  I  keep  not  my  hand  supple,  what  use  to  live  ?  Why  not  die 
at  once?  Yet,"  he  added,  indicating  his  womanly  garments  dis- 
tastefully, "no  true  man  could  die  in  these — not  religiously!" 

Dilaram  bent  her  brows  at  him  contemptuously.  "Traa!" 
she  said.  "  Better  nor  thou  hast  died  in  petticoats  and  gone  to 
God.  But  men  are  ever  so.  Lord  !  how  we  apples  swim  !  A 
farthing  of  bhang  and  a  curl  to  the  moustache  !  And  as  for 
true  men  dying  religious,  look  you  !  When  the  time  for  free- 
dom comes  at  last,  'tis  ever,  '  Not  to-day,  as  the  saint  said  when 
God  really  called  him.''  Then  her  manner  softened;  she 
looked  at  the  spent  figure  before  her  more  kindly.  "  'Tis  being 

125 


126  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

woman  one  moment  and  man  the  next  that  wearies  thee.  A 
body  could  not  stand  it  long,  though  he  be  born  without  bones 
like  an  acrobat  and  have  learnt  to  throw  back  somersaults  like  a 
beggar-boy.  And  there  be  no  use  in  it,  see  you,  since  we  are 
safe  in  this  garden.  So  why  not  let  Phusli  die?" 

The  old  Strangler  stared  at  her.  "  What  meanest  thou, 
sister?"  he  asked. 

"But  this,"  she  replied:  "As  snake-charmer  on  the  cactus- 
hedge  thou  wouldst  be  more  free  to  come  and  go,  so  be  of  more 
use,  for  'tis  news  my  lady  desires  nowadays — news,  always 
news  !  And  old  Bisrao  is  dead,  they  say,  so  thou  couldst  get 
the  place.  The  Bibi  would  speak  for  thee." 

"  But  Phusli?"  queried  the  Strangler  dubiously.  "  How  is 
she  to  die?" 

Dalaram  grunted  impatiently.  "  I  care  not,  brother,  so  she 
die  not  here,  and  I  have  not  to  sing  psalms.  Take  her  away 
with  thee,  fool,  and  do  the  deed  outside." 

"  The  deed?"  echoed  the  Strangler  blankly.  "  Dost  mean 
with  the  Noose?  Nay,  sister — 

Dilaram  gave  a  short  laugh.  "  Out  on  thee,  stupidity  ! 
Wouldst  noose  thyself  ?  Nay,  ask  for  a  space  wherein  to  visit 
a  father's  grave  or  a  mother's  great-uncle,  and  die  on  the  road  ! 
'Tis  quite  simple.  But  the  mistress  must  give  her  consent. 
Mayhap  she  may  see  error  in  it,  and  she  is  wise  beyond  com- 
pare. Were  she  but  a  man " 

"Sister,"  interrupted  her  hearer  solemnly,  "think  not  such 
things;  wouldst  have  her  as  I,  neither  one  nor  t'other?  God 
forbid!" 

Nevertheless,  Dilaram  was  right.  After  nine  and  thirty 
years  of  a  normal  woman's  life  Mihr-un-nissa  was  just  begin- 
ning to  find  out  that  she  was  not  normal.  Three  years  had 
passed  away  since  that  first  storm  of  tears  she  had  shed  in  the 
balcony  of  her  prison  after  her  interview  with  Jahangir,  yet,  as 
she  looked  back  on  it,  she  felt  as  if  it  had  been  yesterday,  so 
fresh,  so  poignant  were  the  emotions  it  had  brought  her.  Instant 
realization  for  one  thing,  that  this  man,  debauched,  drunken, 
had  something  she  had  not ;  something  it  was  unlikely  she  would 
ever  have.  Yes,  she  would  pass  through  life  as  girl,  wife, 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  127 

mother,  doing  her  duty  by  that  life,  enjoying  it,  and  yet  she 
would  pass  to  the  grave  without  tasting  of  life's  greatest  gift. 

Why  was  it  ?  With  all  her  beauty,  all  her  wit,  all  her  charm — 
the  effect  of  which  she  saw  on  almost  everyone's  face — why  was 
it  that  the  womanly  instinct  to  give  herself  wholly  into  a  man's 
keeping  had  never  been  hers?  Perforce  alone  for  long  hours 
while  she  worked,  she  argued  the  point  with  herself  until  she 
saw  that  men  never  gave  this  love  to  a  woman  really ;  they 
reserved  something  always.  Even  Jahangir,  whose  love  was 
evidently  an  obsession,  only  proposed  to  give  his  emotions. 
Perhaps  that  was  what  most  women  did  also;  only,  since  by 
common  repute  they  were  made  up  of  emotions,  it  might  be  that 
in  so  doing  they  gave  themselves. 

So  she  analyzed  herself  and  her  world,  coming  finally  to  the 
conclusion  that,  had  she  been  in  a  man's  position,  she  could  have 
loved  as  easily  as  they  did. 

Passing  to  considerations  of  the  present,  she  saw  with  joy 
that  a  bitterer  revenge  than  even  she  had  dreamt  of  was  hers  in 
regard  to  the  Emperor.  A  desire  that  had  outlasted  two  and 
twenty  years,  that  still  desired  a  woman  of  six  and  thirty,  would 
not  be  appeased  by  the  object  of  that  desire  being  free  and 
within  reach. 

That  is  to  say,  if  he  kept  to  his  passionate  declaration  that 
without  her  consent  he  could  not  claim  her.  This  remained  to  be 
seen,  though  in  her  heart  of  hearts  she  felt  that  he  would.  He 
was  not  without  force  of  character,  misdirected  though  it  was. 

So  when  at  the  end  of  the  first  month  she  sent  back,  with  a 
curt  refusal  to  take  blood-money,  the  pension  he  assigned  to  her 
as  to  all  other  inmates  of  the  women's  quarter,  she  waited 
anxiously  for  a  sign ;  yet  fearlessly,  for  the  Noose  of  Death  was 
at  her  door. 

Yet  none  came.  And  when  Khanzada  Racquiya  Begum,  now 
a  white-haired  old  woman  nearly  seventy,  suggested  to  the  Most 
High  that  she  and  Mussumat  Mihr-un-nissa  might  retire  as 
before  to  the  Garden  of  Roses,  and  live  there  in  the  scented 
seclusion  that  suited  their  tastes,  she  fully  expected  a  refusal 
of  permission.  Yet  again  no  sign  came ;  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses the  Emperor  appeared  to  have  forgotten  her.  He  even  set 


128  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

about  contracting  a  new  marriage  for  himself.  She  smiled  when 
she  heard  the  news,  as  a  mother  might  smile  over  the  efforts  of  a 
child  to  gain  its  own  way ;  she  was  beginning  to  follow  the 
vagaries  of  this  man's  mind,  though  she  still  held  him  anathema. 
But  when  New  Year's  Day  came  round,  amongst  the  small  offer- 
ings that  old  friends,  seeing  a  certain  position  assured  to  her, 
began  to  send  her,  there  was  one  small  bunch  of  campernelle 
jonquils  for  which  she  could  find  no  donor.  It  was  a  north- 
country  habit,  that  simple  ceremonious  sending  of  good  wishes 
with  a  few  stalks  of  the  nodding,  bright-eyed,  sweet-scented 
flowers.  It  might  well  be  that  the  Emperor  himself  knew 
nothing  of  their  sending,  save  the  general  order  that  the  courtesy 
should  be  shown  to  all  and  sundry  in  the  harem  at  Agra. 

But  why  send  twenty  miles  out  to  the  Rose-Garden? 

The  first  year  she  threw  them  aside,  the  second  she  bade 
Dilaram  place  them  with  the  other  flowers,  and  this  third 
anniversary  she  was  sitting  with  them  in  her  hand,  when  Dilaram 
came  to  ask  permission  for  Phusli  the  message-woman  to  die, 
and  Phusla  the  snake-charmer  to  take  up  office  at  the  cactus- 
hedge. 

She  laid  them  down  somewhat  hurriedly  on  that  fresh  basket 
of  rose-leaves  she  had  just  gathered ;  for  the  New  Year  in  India 
is  really  the  P'east  of  Spring,  and  falls  ever  in  late  March  or 
early  April. 

When  the  suggestion  was  put  to  her,  she  accepted  it  at  once 
with  a  curiously  capable,  comprehensive  keenness.  "  Ay,"  she 
said.  "  'Tis  well  thought  of  !  I  shall  gain  thereby  more 
knowledge  than  most ;  for  thy  gang,  0  Strangler,  is  far  reach- 
ing. So  go  thy  way — I  will  assure  thine  acceptance — and 
remember,  no  news  is  too  trivial  to  report.  I  seek  to  know  all." 

This  was  true.  The  narrow  range  of  the  normal  woman's 
life  was  fast  widening.  She  was  nine  and  thirty  now,  and 
though  untouched  by  time  as  yet,  was  nearing  the  great 
climacteric  of  womanhood  ;  for  in  the  East  maturity  comes  early, 
and  by  forty  most  women  look  and  are  old.  She  had  few 
illusions;  she  knew  that  time  was  against  her  in  one  way;  but 
she  was  conscious  that  fresh  capabilities,  fresh  powers,  were 
rising  in  her. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  129 

And  she  had  exceptional  opportunities  for  exercising  them. 
Years  before,  Jahangir  had  entrusted  the  upbringing  of  his 
favourite  son,  Prince  Khurram  (afterwards  to  reign  as  Shah- 
jahan),  to  Khanzada  Racquiya  Begum,  his  grandfather  Akbar's 
childless  widow.  The  lad  had  now  almost  come  to  man's  estate, 
but,  being  devotedly  attached  to  his  step-grandmother,  he  came 
constantly  to  visit  her  from  Agra,  where  he  was  finishing  his 
education.  And  with  him  came  tutors,  guardians,  professors, 
grave  men  of  learning  and  political  insight,  to  whom  the  Khan- 
zada (now  past  the  restrictions  of  absolute  seclusion)  would  give 
audience,  while  Mihr-un-nissa,  more  decorously  veiled,  would 
sit  a  little  apart,  yet  join  in  the  conversation.  And  Racquiya 
was  a  shrewd  politician  of  the  old  type,  as  so  many  of  these 
Mogul  women  were. 

Then  Mihr-un-nissa's  own  father,  Ghiyass-ud-din,  was  a  fre- 
quent visitor.  An  able  man,  now  one  of  the  greatest  powers  in 
the  State,  who  found  in  his  daughter  a  companionship  denied 
him  in  his  sons.  For  Asof  Khan,  though  high  in  the  Em- 
peror's esteem,  did  not  satisfy  either  his  father  or  his  sister ; 
there  was  ever  too  much  of  mere  personal  advantage  in  his 
thoughts  and  actions.  But  she  and  her  father  discussed  all 
topics  of  State,  and  from  him  she  learnt  how  the  Emperor  was 
degenerating  into  a  mere  drunkard,  and  how  advantage  was 
being  taken  of  him  on  all  sides.  And  she  listened  with  set  lip ; 
this  was  revenge  indeed. 

"  Lo  !"  said  her  father  to  her  one  day,  "  thou  seemest  to 
have  small  pity — yet  has  the  man  good  qualities  enough,  would 
he  but  use  them — as  thou  dost,  child  !  Truly  thou  hast  keen 
wits.  They  clash  with  mine  at  times,  but  it  does  but  show  the 
temper  of  thy  steel.  Sure,  there  is  naught  comparable  to  the 
tie  between  us,  save  that  of  poor  Queen  Content  and  her  father. 
God  send  her  fate  touch  not  thee  ! ' ' 

"  'Tis  not  likely,"  Mihr-un-nissa  replied  coldly;  but  in  truth 
the  story  of  the  only  Empress  India  ever  had,  who  was  foully 
murdered  after  three  years  of  admirable  rule,  and  whose  only 
fault,  according  to  historians,  was  that  she  was  woman,  was 
rather  a  favourite  of  hers.  It  was  so  unlike  all  other  tales  of 

9 


i3o  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

womanhood ;   so  unlike  the  womanhood  which  frequented  the 
Garden  of  Roses. 

First  the  Emperor's  mother,  Maryam  Zamani,  a  dear  good 
soul,  but  a  stupid,  who  constantly  came  to  talk  over  her  beloved 
grandson  and  still  more  beloved  son  with  Racquiya  Begum.  The 
long  years  had  healed  the  jealousy  which  had  existed  in  youth- 
ful days  between  these  respective  heads  of  the  Hindu  and 
Mahomedan  harems  in  Akbar's  time,  and  the  two  old  ladies  were 
ready  and  willing  to  mingle  their  tears  over  the  transgressions 
and  excesses  of  one  who  had  been  their  idol  eyer  since  his 
birth.  For  even  they  could  not  deny  the  fact  that  year  by  year, 
day  by  day,  the  Emperor's  behaviour  became  less  and  less  im- 
perial. So,  when  any  fresh  outburst  of  insensate  anger,  any 
fresh  outbreak  of  mere  foolish  debauchery,  became  public,  poor 
Maryam  Zamani  would  hasten  to  find  consolation  from  the 
childless  old  poetess  in  the  Rose-Garden.  The  two  would  sit 
hand  in  hand  while  Racquiya,  mayhap,  would  quote  the  verse 
that  heads  this  chapter,  and  say  softly  : 

"  He  knows,  sister  !  He  knows  !  The  lad  hath  a  kind  heart 
at  bottom,  and  things  went  wrong  in  the  beginning." 

And  she  would  give  a  side  glance  at  Mihr-un-nissa,  for  they 
had  few  secrets  between  them.  But  the  mother  would  go  away 
comforted  for  the  time. 

There  was  another  constant  visitor  to  the  Garden — Arjamand 
Banu,  Mihr-un-nissa's  niece  and  Asof  Khan's  daughter,  a  charm- 
ing girl  of  sixteen  who,  by  a  strange  coincidence,  had  been 
formally  betrothed,  with  great  carousing,  to  young  Prince 
Khurram  just  at  the  time  of  Ali  Kul's  death.  That  was  three 
years  ago;  both  parties  to  the  contract  were  of  full  age,  yet 
there  had  been  no  talk  of  marriage.  Both  these  facts  excited 
Mihr-un-nissa's  wonder.  First  as  to  the  service  Asof  Khan  had 
rendered  to  make  a  royal  bridegroom  for  his  daughter  an  equiva- 
lent reward,  next  as  to  the  reason  for  this  delay  in  the  nuptials ; 
a  delay,  unusual,  unaccountable. 

Unless,  indeed,  her  aunt's  refusal  to  fall  in  with  the  Em- 
peror's plans  had  made  the  latter  determined  to  have  nothing 
further  to  do  with  what  must  give  her  pleasure.  Or  perhaps, 
again,  it  might  be  pure,  unreasonable  resentment  that  his  young 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  131 

son  should  have  what  he  desired  when  he,  his  father,  had  been 
denied  it  in  his  youth;  for  it  was  common  knowledge  that 
Khurram  and  Arjamand  were  deeply  in  love  with  each  other. 

By  dint  of  thought  Mihr-un-nissa  was  beginning,  without 
pity,  to  follow  the  wayward  workings  of  the  Emperor's  mind, 
and  the  more  she  understood,  the  deeper  became  her  conviction 
that  the  best  thing  that  could  happen  for  himself  and  for  his 
Empire  was  an  early  death  from  drink,  leaving  the  way  clear  for 
the  Prince  to  reign  in  his  stead.  To  this  end  she  encouraged  the 
young  couple  in  their  attachment  as  far  as  was  possible  with  the 
strict  etiquette  of  seclusion;  perhaps  a  little  more,  since  her 
outdoor  life  with  Ali  Kul  had  freed  her  from  many  conven- 
tionalities. 

Naturally  enough,  a  close  bond  of  union  sprang  up  between 
the  young  Prince  and  the  woman,  double  his  age,  who  was  so 
infinitely  his  superior  in  wit.  She  used  to  rally  him  on  his 
sober  face,  and  say  that  his  name,  which  means  "  joyful,"  was 
the  most  inappropriate  one  she  had  ever  heard,  for  in  truth  he 
had  the  look  of  a  disinherited  knight  as  he  roamed  moodily  about 
the  garden  paths  hoping  for  some  indiscreet  glimpse  of 
Arjamand. 

"  Show  him  thy  little  ringer  with  the  ring  he  gave  thee  on't, 
child,"  Mihr-un-nissa  laughed  when,  one  day,  the  girl  had  been 
manoeuvring  to  give  her  young  lover  some  sign  of  her  presence. 

'T would  be  more  soothing,  see  you,  than  the  sight  of  six- 
swathed  yards  of  Dacca  muslin,  which  is  all  that  is  possible  with 
the  Khanzada  looking  this  way." 

And  the  girl,  blushing,  had  waved  her  hand  with  the  betrothal 
ring  on  its  little  finger  from  the  balcony,  and  both  she  and  her 
young  lover  had  felt  grateful  for  the  suggestion. 

Meanwhile,  outside  the  pleasant  haven  of  the  Rose-Garden, 
matters  were  going  ill  with  the  Empire. 

An  expedition  sent  to  quell  disturbance  in  the  Deccan  failed 
in  its  object.  Another  army  had  been  despatched  to  the  seat 
of  war,  more  money  had  been  raised  and  sent;  but  the  Amirs 
were  quarrelling  with  each  other,  and  grim  tales  of  starvation 
amongst  the  troops,  from  lack  of  proper  supplies,  were  begin- 
ning to  filter  up  country. 


i32  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

One  order  after  another  was  given,  the  Generals  were  changed, 
this  one  promoted,  that  one  degraded,  while  Jahangir,  half 
fuddled  with  wine  and  opium,  signed  the  firmans  right  royally. 
The  rest  of  his  time  he  spent  in  collecting  rubies  from  far  and 
near.  Every  petty  Amir,  knowing  his  craze  for  them,  included 
one  or  more  in  his  nuzzer,  or  offering  of  entry. 

"Take  it  back;  'tis  the  colour  of  an  onion,"  he  said  sar- 
castically to  some,  and  the  presenter  thereof  would  slink  away 
ashamed,  knowing  that  a  black  mark  stood  against  his  name. 
But  often  the  Emperor  tired  even  of  rubies,  and  would  go  off 
on  hunting  expeditions,  away  from  his  capital  for  four  or  five 
months,  slaying  animals  by  the  thousand. 

But  ever  round  his  camp  the  cry  of  the  black  partridge  would 
be  heard  as  the  secret  guild  of  Stranglers  watched  and  waited, 
silent  and  slippery  as  snakes ;  and  at  nights  the  chattering  laugh 
of  the  hyasna  would  echo  out,  giving  some  signal  to  the  stealthy 
forms  that  slunk  in  the  darkness. 

For  Phusla  had  kept  his  promise,  and  news  was  being 
gathered ;  trivial  news,  yet  in  a  way  important  to  the  woman  who 
listened  to  them  by  the  cactus-hedge. 

"Yea,  yea,"  mumbled  the  toothless  old  man;  "Majesty, 
having  had  a  surfeit  of  rubies  (there  was  one  that  weighed  five 
tanks  six  surks — the  giver  thereof  got  commission  of  500  horse 
as  reward ;  look  you,  none  get  aught  without  rubies),  decided 
on  hunting.  He  hath  killed  fourteen  hundred  head — yea,  he 
shoots  straight  when  he  hath  not  too  much  wine  in  his  eyes.  Lo  ! 
the  chase  fills  his  head  and  he  forgets  all  else.  Ahrah  !  But 
he  was  an  angered  when  the  tiger  cubs  slipped  past  by  reason  of 
the  thickness  of  the  scrub.  Majesty  is  ever  fond  of  young 
things,  and  he  had  set  his  heart  on  these.  So  orders  came  to 
search  and  find  without  fail.  All  that  night  the  camp  scarce 
slept,  and  we  also,  being  expert,  searched,  yet  found  not  the 
right  ones;  but  having  knowledge  of  another,  we  fetched  one, 
and  his  Highness  Prince  Khurram  appeased  Majesty  with  it 
next  morning.  So  anger  died  down  somewhat.  But  that  same 
evening  Mohabat  Khan,  counsellor,  sent  foot  in  hand  to  us  for 
another,  ere  the  king  would  cease  cursing;  for  see  you,  he  had 
been  in  his  cups  for  days.  And  even  so  wrath  remained 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  133 

Phusla  the  snake-charmer  paused  as  he  sat  retailing  his  yarna 
to  Mihr-un-nissa  in  the  shadow  of  the  cactus-hedge,  while 
unwinking  eyes  stared  at  them  through  the  prickly  leaves. 

"Ay?"  she  queried  sharply.  "And  even  so — wrath 
remained — what  then?" 

The  old  man  coughed  deprecatingly.  "  Even  so,  being  but 
man,  and  that  man  largely  absent  through  drink,  wrath  remained. 
It  was  a  big  blue  bull,  Bibi;  Majesty  had  crawled  within  just 
range.  Mehtu,  one  of  the  Tribe,  Bibi,  being  passed  shikari, 
had  got  him  up  to  it  when  by  mischance  an  owl  of  a  groom 
and  two  misbegotten  bearers,  thinking  they  had  been  called, 

appeared;  and  pouf  !  the  blue  bull  was  away.      So "  he 

paused  again. 

"  So,"  re-echoed  Mihr-un-nissa  impatiently,  "  what  hap- 
pened? If  all  ill  deed  be  done,  to  tell  of  one  is  not  hard  !" 

The  snake-charmer  rocked  himself  to  and  fro  as  he  did  when 
blowing  at  his  gourd  flute,  and  he  spoke  in  a  hollow  sing-song 
tone  to  match. 

"  Nay,  'tis  easy,"  he  replied.  "  Yet  the  tongue  trembles  lest 
it  tell  not  the  exact  truth.  That  is  known  to  God  only.  But 
the  Emperor  being  away,  as  Emperor,  and  what  remained  of 
the  rest  of  him  being  fuddled  with  wine,  ordered  that  the  groom 
be  killed  upon  the  spot  and  that  the  bearers  be  hamstrung  and 
so  be  paraded  on  ass-back  through  the  camp,  that  none  ever  again 
should  have  the  boldness  to  do  such  an  evil  thing  as  deprive 
Majesty  of  pleasure." 

"  And  was  it  done?"  asked  his  hearer  sharply. 

"  Ay,  that  was  it.  'Twas  Majesty's  order,  though  Majesty 
was  not  there,  being  half  drunk.  Mehtu  saw  the  groom's  widow 
wailing.  She  hath  three  young  children." 

Mihr-un-nissa  rose  swiftly,  her  right  hand  clenched. 

' '  May  God  curse  the  murderer  ! ' '  she  said  with  terrible 
intensity,  and  turned  to  go;  but  the  Strangler  arrested  her. 

"  Nay,  Most  Excellent,  there  is  more,"  he  called.  "That 
was  Mehtu's  news — he  is  of  the  outdoor  tribe;  but  Lai,  who  is 
of  the  indoor,  hath  other.  He  spreads  the  carpets  in  the  royal 
tents,  Huzoor,  and  he  bade  me  give  the  mistress  this,  which  he 
hath  found  where  the  blest  bed  of  Majesty  had  honoured  the 


134  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

lean  earth  !"  He  fumbled  in  his  breast  and  produced  a  torn 
bit  of  crumpled  paper,  which  he  gave  into  Mihr-un-nissa's 
half  reluctant  hand.  "  Lo  !  the  Most  High  had  been  marvellous 
drunk,  seeing  that  he  shows  it  but  little  as  a  rule.  They  could 
not  guide  his  sainted  footsteps,  so  they  lifted  his  divine  body  to 
his  honoured  couch,  where  he  lay.'  But  afterwards,  waking,  he 
sat  up  crying,  so  they  say " 

"A  drunken  cry,  set  to  the  drunken  laugh,"  commented 
Mihr-un-nissa  coldly. 

"  Mayhap  !"  assented  the  old  man.  "  Yet  was  the  man 
drunk,  so  not  there.  Then,  as  he  recovered  himself,  he  called 
for  pen  and  paper  and  spoilt  much.  So  when  dawn  came,  and 
Lai  had  to  spread  the  carpet  elsewhere,  there  was  much  litter. 
But  that  he  found ;  so  sent  it,  deeming  it  might  be  worth 
perusal." 

Mihr-un-nissa  glanced  at  what  she  held.  Badly  written, 
blotted,  half  torn.  Her  first  impulse  was  to  throw  it  away 
unlocked  at.  Then  she  crushed  it  in  her  hand,  waited  till  she 
was  alone,  smoothed  it  out,  and  read  : 

"  Oh,  turn  thine  eyes  from  me,  Beloved  one  ; 
Let  me  burn  rue  to  cloud  what  I  have  done, 
And  drive  the  devils  from  my  aching  heart. 
Lo  !     I  am  mad  to  meet  thee — mad  to  part ! 
Yea,  take  thine  eyes  away,  lest  they  should  see 
My  foolishness.     Frenzied  and  mad  for  thee 
The  World  is  ;  and  thou  movest  frenzied  too 
With  Anger  at  me.     God  !  what  shall  I  do 
To  ease  the  arrow  that  has  pierced  my  soul ! 
Thine  absence  brings  despair,  and  yet  the  goal 
Of  union  would  be  worse.     Jahangir,  know 
The  time  for  tears  and  prayers  is  morn  !     Then  go 
Down  on  thy  knees  and  pray  God  send  some  light, 
Even  a  spark,  to  cheer  thy  darksome  night."* 

She  sat  looking  at  it  for  some  time;  then,  with  a  faint  sob, 
folded  it  up  and  hid  it  away. 

*  From  Jahangir's  "  Memoirs,"  written  1610 


CHAPTER  VI 

"  Oh,  if  thou  beest  True  Lover,  wash  not  hand 
From  that  dear  Stain  of  Love  !     From  worldly  brand 
Of  Self  and  Pleasure  wash  it.     In  the  End 
Ye  Twain  before  God's  Judgment  seat  will  stand." 

JAHANGIR,  in  the  balcony  of  his  palace  at  Agra,  lay  somnolent 
among  cushions  of  gold  tissue.  Beyond  the  marble  fretwork  of 
the  low  balustrade  the  sun  shone  buoyantly  on  fresh  green  leaves 
and  blossom  buds. 

Beyond  that  again  the  level  wheat-fields  and  shimmering  cane- 
brakes  stretched  away  to  the  opalescent  line  of  pale  blue  which 
marked  where  the  distant  ridge  of  Sikri  lay ;  and  over  all  the 
crisp  cool  air  of  a  North  Indian  early  spring  morning  swept  on 
the  wings  of  a  light  breeze,  which  kissed  the  cheek  softly, 
caressingly.  An  invitation  to  be  up  and  out,  to  leave  even  the 
trappings  of  royalty  behind,  seemed  to  filter  through  to  the  Em- 
peror's drowsy  mind ;  but  he  had  not  the  initiative  to  accept  it. 
He  lay  inert,  vaguely  content,  vaguely  discontented.  Just  out- 
side, in  a  curve  from  the  battlements  of  the  Shah-burj  to  a  stone 
post  fixed  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  hung  the  heavy  chain  of  pure 
gold,  weighing  over  three  hundred  pounds,  all  set  with  sixty 
golden  bells,  which  it  had  been  Jahangir's  first  act  after  his 
accession  to  place  there,  and  which  he  had  named  the  "  Chain 
of  Justice,  so  that  if  those  engaged  in  administration  should 
delay  or  practice  hypocrisy  in  the  matter  of  those  seeking  justice, 
the  oppressed  might  come  to  the  chain  and  shake 'it  so  that  its 
noise  might  attract  my  attention." 

Excellent  in  conception;  at  first,  possibly,  in  execution.  But 
k  seldom  rang  now,  or,  if  it  did,  the  monarch  was  in  no  fit 
state  to  hear  it. 

At  the  moment  his  mind  was  far  from  the  affairs  of  State, 
and  he  frowned  when  he  was  reminded  of  them  by  a  servant, 


136  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

t  who,  with  his  forehead  in  the  dust,  chanted  in  modulated  voice 
the  information  that  the  Khan  Khanum — in  other  words  the  Lord 
of  Lords,  the  Commander-in-Chief — awaited  the  Emperor's 
pleasure. 

The  frown  settled  deeper,  became  almost  a  scowl ;  for  Abdur 
Rahman  the  Khan  Khanum  was  in  disgrace.  The  army  in  the 
Deccan  had  fallen  into  even  greater  confusion.  Men  and  horses 
were  dying  by  the  hundred ;  finally  a  sort  of  peace  had  been 
patched  up  with  the  rebels,  and  the  troops  had  been  withdrawn 
to  Burhanpur.  But  even  this  move  had  not  relieved  the  tension. 
The  Amirs  of  the  Army  were  quarrelling  bitterly ;  orders  and 
counter  orders  came  in  quick  succession ;  finally  the  Second  in 
Command  repiesented  that  "  all  the  division  of  counsel  had  arisen 
from  the  treachery  and  want  of  arrangement  in  the  Khan 
Khanum,  and  that  the  only  possible  way  of  success  was  to  recall 
him,  and  give  the  absolute  control  to  the  writer,  who,  on  con- 
sideration of  a  further  force  of  30,000  horse  being  immediately 
supplied,  would  engage  in  two  years'  time  to  settle  the  affair 
under  pain  of  dismissal  from  the  good  graces  of  the  Most  High." 
When  this  letter  had  arrived,  Jahangir,  in  hot  indignation, 
had  summoned  the  offender  to  court.  Now  that  he  had  arrived, 
sheer  indolence  counselled  delay. 

"  I  receive  him  not;  bid  him  kick  his  heels  elsewhere;"  came 
the  verdict.  Then  satisfaction  at  having  made  up  his  mind 
gave  an  impetus  to  Jahangir 's  will.  "  Bid  the  astrologers,"  he 
added,  "  find  a  propitious  hour  for  a  hunting  expedition.  I  go 
to-morrow.  Bid  the  Head  of  the  Tent  Department  see  to  it. 
And  to-night,  as  farewell,  bid  the  Stewards  of  the  Household 
prepare  a  Feast  of  Intoxication.  The  guests  have  choice  as  to 
what  drink  they  affect,  so  let  them  see  to  it  that  all  kinds  are 
ready.  Dost  hear?" 

The  servant  slid  out  backwards,  and  Jahangir  lay  back  among 
his  cushions.  He  was  not  drunk,  nor  near  it;  simply  mind, 
soul,  body  were  poisoned  with  narcotics  and  stimulants. 

That  night  after  dark  the  Feast  of  Intoxication  was  held  in 
the  Mirror-Room  of  the  Palace.  It  was  not  large,  this  room, 
and  its  wall  space  was  reft  away  by  the  twelve  arched  door- 
ways, three  on  each  side,  which  led  to  outer  slips  of  rooms  where 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  137 

the  servants  in  their  gold  liveries  hurried  up  and  down,  bringing 
aromatic  comfits  and  strange  exhilarating  drinks  to  all  who  asked 
for  them;  but  the  roof  was  inlaid  in  bold  arabesques,  with 
floriated  gold  tendrils  bearing  leaves  and  flowers  of  looking- 
glass,  each  reflecting  in  its  own  small  world  the  scene  that  lay 
beneath  it.  So  there  were  thousands  on  thousands  of  befogged 
Emperors  looking  down  on  the  real  one,  who  lay  in  the  centre 
of  the  room,  his  figure  half  hidden  by  the  soft  contours  of  the 
pillows  on  which  he  rested. 

It  was  a  handsome  face  that  showed  faintly,  sullenly  amused 
at  the  antics  that  were  going  on.  A  handsome  face  with  large, 
well-opened  eyes,  a  fine  forehead,  and  a  heavy  moustache  hiding 
the  full  curves  of  a  mouth  that  was  curiously  at  variance  with 
the  weak  lines  of  the  lower  part  of  the  face.  The  balance  of 
power  was,  indeed,  absolutely  in  favour  of  the  upper  part,  there 
being  very  little,  either  for  good  or  evil,  between  the  long  nose 
and  the  chin. 

As  to  the  brain  that  lay  behind  the  forehead,  who  can  say 
what  it  might  have  been  ?  Adolescence  had  brought  such  an 
excess  of  alcohol  to  it — he  himself  confesses  to  twenty  cups,  or 
about  six  quarts,  of  double  distilled  spirit  in  a  day — that  it  had 
never  had  a  chance  of  showing  its  true  metal.  It  had  been 
sodden  from  the  commencement.  Yet  the  same  sullenness  that 
he  had  shown  as  a  boy  testified  to  discontent.  Discontent  with 
what  ? 

Not  with  his  surroundings,  surely.  Never  in  this  world  has 
man  been  placed  more  favourably  both  for  power  and  pleasure. 
Succeeding  to  an  Empire  wisely  regulated  by  a  wise  father,  he 
had  the  wisdom  to  continue  government  on  that  father's  lines. 
His  own  additions  to  the  State  code  were  humane  and  statesman- 
like. He  was  surrounded  by  many  sycophants,  it  is  true,  but 
he  had  men  beside  him  by  the  score,  who,  given  a  hearing,  would 
have  brought  him  sound  advice.  Despite  all  this  there  was  a 
warp  somewhere;  despite  all  these  advantages  he  had  not  the 
resolution  necessary  to  choose  between  good  and  evil,  and  so  on 
this  day,  some  six  years  after  his  accession,  he  lay,  his  massive 
form  half  hidden  by  silken  softnesses,  watching  the  buffoon  of 
the  company  mimicking  a  Sufi  religious  dance  to  a  tune — a  very 


138  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

undevotional  one — sung  by  a  choir  of  Delhi  singers  who  had 
been  amusing  the  company  with  their  doubtful  repertory. 

It  was  really  rather  funny  !  In  a  large  white  sheet  and  a 
high  cap  made  of  paper  twirled  to  a  peak  like  a  dunce's, 
Sayyidi-Shah  spun  and  twisted  and  pirouetted  while  he  im- 
provised a  topical  verse  about  everyone  present ;  and  every  time 
the  refrain  came  round  he  cocked  his  cap  a  different  way,  first 
over  one  ear,  then  over  the  other,  over  one  eye,  at  the  back  of 
his  head,  finally  putting  it  over  his  nose  and  continuing  to  spin 
gravely,  amid  the  roars  of  his  audience.  And  this  was  the 
refrain  : 

"  A  dervish's  cap  is  oft  awry  ; 

Sometimes  it  pointeth  to  the  sky, 

Sometimes  to  earth  ;  but — let  me  tell : 

It  pointeth  oftenest  to  Hell. 

'Tis  all  awry ! 

Ah,  fie  !" 

Absolutely  banal  as  it  was,  there  seemed  to  be  something  in 
the  cadence  that  was  catching,  for  more  than  one  drinker  of 
"exhilarating  drinks"  got  up,  whirled  and  span  for  a  minute 
in  imitation  of  the  improvisation,  then  subsided  unsteadily, 
amid  the  immoderate  laughter  of  his  companions. 

"  'Tis  going  round  that  makes  my  legs  giddy,"  explained  one 
solemnly,  after,  by  a  narrow  ace,  he  avoided  sitting  down  on  the 
top  of  royalty. 

Jahangir  was  the  first  to  weary  of  the  silly  game.  He  held 
up  his  finger  despotically,  and  it  ceased  as  if  by  magic. 

"  Why  canst  not  be  original,  fool?"  he  growled  to  the  singer. 
"  Why  parody  a  decent  verse?"  And  he  quoted  the  couplet 
of  Amir  Kusrao',  concerning  the  Saint  Nizam-ud-din  Auliya 
whose  cap  was  awry.  "  Yet  for  my  part  I  have  not  gripped 
the  hidden  meaning  of  the  yerse,  though  there  is  one  doubtless," 
he  added ;  then  as  if  a  thought  struck  him,  he  gazed  round  his 
intimates  almost  contemptuously,  and  said  :  "  Mayhap  one  of 
you  gentlemen  have  a  reading.  If  so,  out  with  it — dost  hear  ! 
Out  with  it !" 

The  words  were  not  a  request,  not  a  permission,  but  a  com- 
mand, and  the  most  sober  of  the  lot  rose  with  a  bow. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  139 

"An  it  please  royalty,  the  hidden  meaning  of  the  verse — is — 
is  " — he  looked  round  helplessly — "  is  that  it  hath  none." 

There  was  another  roar  of  laughter;  but  Jahangir  frowned. 

An  older  man,  and  a  fatter,  stood  up  to  appease  the  storm 
that  threatened.  "  'Tis  this  way,  Majesty.  He  beginneth  by 
saying  each  man  has  his  own  faith,  his  own  religion,  his  own 

shrine.  Then  he  passeth  on  to  the  next  hemistich "  He 

paused  as  if  the  word  was  a  difficulty,  and  like  a  cork  out  of  a 
bottle  the  most  noted  toper  of  them  all  shot  up  with  a  hiccup  : 

"And  I  s'hay  he  has  none!  I  shay  that  the  hemi-hemi- 
hemi-stich  referreth  to  women's  garments,  an'  not  to  poetry.  I 
shay  that  the  world  is  in  a  cocked  hat " 

As  the  words  were  uttered  the  speaker  suddenly  threw  out  his 
arms  and  fell,  amid  yet  another  roar  of  laughter. 

"  Pick  the  drunkard  up,"  began  Jahangir;  then  something  in 
the  lax  inertness  of  the  prostrate  figure  struck  him,  and  he  was 
at  its  head  before  the  others  had  recovered  from  their  surprise. 
He  turned  the  face  upwards,  stood  for  a  second  petrified,  then 
raised  himself,  every  trace  of  blood  gone  from  his  face,  his 
hands  trembling  visibly. 

"  He  is  dead,"  he  muttered  hoarsely.  "  God  hath  called 
him  !  He  is  dead  !" 

Others,  crowding  about  the  prostrate  man,  sobered  by  the 
incident,  swore  it  was  but  a  fit ;  he  would  come  round  ere  long. 
Physicians  were  called,  but  Jahangir  was  right.  Even  as  the 
mocker  fell  with  the  ribald  words  upon  his  lips,  the  spirit  had 
passed. 

"  He  hath  delivered  his  soul  to  the  hands  of  his  Creator  !" 
said  the  Emperor,  and  his  eyes  showed  fear.  He  had  never 
seen  death  in  this  guise,  and  the  sharpness  of  the  contrast 
unhinged  even  his  apathy. 

"  My  nightly  cup,  slaves,"  he  called  suddenly.  "  And  you, 
gentlemen,  get  you  gone,  and  pray  Heaven  morning  find  you 
not  dead  like  this  one."  And  tossing  off  his  nightly  potion  of 
an  elixir  containing  six  grains  of  opium,  he  retired  to  the 
women's  apartments. 

A  sorry  life  indeed ;  but  this  incident  had  for  the  time  sick- 
ened him  of  debauchery,  and  he  turned  with  unusual  interest  to 


140  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

thoughts  of  his  hunting  expedition.  He  would  get  away  from'- 
temptation  and  from  the  cares  of  State  for  three  months.  He 
would  go  to  his  favourite  reserve,  where  antelope  and  partridge 
abounded,  he  would  leave  behind  him  the  companionship  of 
fools.  Ay,  even  that  of  the  wise  men  who  bored  him  with 
advice  he  never  took — it  was  so  wily,  so  considerate.  But  out 
in  the  open  he  was  taken  at  his  face  value.  If  he  stumbled  in 
his  stalk,  the  quarry  fled  before  he  had  a  shot  at  it.  If  he 
missed  a  bird,  he  missed  it.  Out  in  the  green  wheat-fields  or 
the  sandy  desert  dunes  he  felt  freer.  The  very  thought  of  them 
made  him  more  a  king,  and  he  spent  the  day  in  safeguarding 
the  city  during  his  absence  by  appointing  a  suitable  custodian 
and  in  issuing  orders  that,  to  avoid  the  unnecessary  destruction 
of  crops  inevitable  from  the  passage  of  a  large  camp  at  that 
season  of  the  year,  the  equipage  should  be  limited  to  things 
absolutely  necessary,  and  that  none  but  his  own  personal  ser- 
vants should  accompany  him.  Doubtless  his  desire  to  get  away 
from  the  Court  atmosphere  shared,  with  kindliness,  the  honour 
of  the  thought;  still  when  all  is  said  and  done,  the  kindliness 
remains. 

The  astrologers,  somewhat  hurried  in  their  horoscopes,  pro- 
fessed themselves  unable  to  find  a  lucky  moment  for  departure 
until  late  in  the  evening,  so  daylight  had  almost  departed  ere 
Jahangir  rode  through  the  city  to  the  Dahrah  garden,  where  he 
was  to  spend  the  night.  This  being  so,  he  made  it  a  sort  of 
farewell  procession.  Heralds  with  bags  of  small  coins  preceded 
him,  scattering  the  money  broadcast  among  the  expectant  crowds. 
The  royal  banner  floated,  the  royal  kettle-drums  clashed,  and 
over  the  head  of  the  tall,  massive,  indolent  figure  the  royal 
umbrella  swayed  and  waved. 

A  fine  figure  of  a  man  truly,  with  all  the  pomp  and  circum- 
stance of  Eastern  etiquette  between  it  and  the  realization  of  what 
it  was  in  essence — a  drugged,  discontented  voluptuary. 

He  was  a  different  being,  however,  when  the  next  morning  he 
shed  his  royalty,  and,  attired  in  a  plain  hunting  suit,  left 
civilization  behind  him  for  his  small  camp  on  the  wilds.  Ere 
evening  came  he  had  forgotten  he  was  Emperor  in  a  patient 
stalk  of  a  blue  bull  which,  when  brought  to  the  scales,  weighed 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  141 

more  than  any  other  he  had  ever  shot ;  an  immense  consolation 
to  the  man  whose  Imperial  troops  were  at  starvation  point  in  the 
Deccan.  Yet  again  he  did  a  kindly  thing.  He  had  the  flesh 
roasted  and  given  to  the  poor  and  needy. 

Meanwhile,  what  of  the  city,  the  Empire  he  had  left  behind 
him?  When  times  are  troublous  the  immediate  presence  of 
absolute  authority,  undivided,  unassailable,  is  a  potent  factor. 
This  being  removed,  small  wonder  was  it  that,  during  the  next 
three  months,  while  the  Emperor  was  killing  fifteen  hundred 
head  of  game,  matters  should  come  to  a  crisis. 

Even  Mihr-un-nissa,  away  on  the  peaceful  Sea  of  Roses,  heard 
of  one  cabal  after  another  from  Phusla  the  snake-charmer.  With 
the  thousand  eyes,  the  thousand  ears  of  his  tribe,  he  was  the  best 
of  newsmongers,  and  of  late  he  had  been  more  assiduous  than 
ever,  and  as  he  retailed  his  budget,  his  soft  eyes  would  fix  them- 
selves on  the  beautiful  face  with  curious  intentness. 

"  The  Empire  is  slipping  from  the  Emperor's  grip,"  he  said 
one  day,  "  and  that  is  not  well.  If  my  grip  on  the  Noose 
slackens,  that  is  the  end." 

She  heard  much  also  from  Prince  Khurram,  who,  now  past 
eighteen,  was  that  unusual  thing  in  the  East,  a  son  devoted  to 
his  father's  interests.  He  came  often  to  consult  with  his  grand- 
mother, the  Khanzada,  and  each  time  he  came  he  was  more 
rueful. 

"  If  my  father  had  but  some  wise  head  beside  him  'twould 
be  well,"  he  said.  "  None  has  a  softer  heart  than  he,  as  I 
know  full  well,  but  he  has  ill  friends  about  him,  and  he  will 
not  listen  to  the  advice  of  the  wise  ones.  Mirza  Ghiyass-ud-din, 
for  instance,  would  be  a  tower  of  strength;  but  the  Emperor 
will  scarce  see  him  these  last  four  years." 

And  he  looked  to  where  Mihr-un-nissa  sat,  unveiled  to  him  as 
betrothed  to  her  niece.  Extraordinarily  beautiful  still,  but  the 
adorable  dimple  did  not  show.  She  sat  grave. 

"  It's  the  pity  of  the  world,"  assented  Rcacquiya  Begum. 
' '  These  last  four  years  have  changed  Jahangir  much ;  and  yet  I 
pray  for  him  each  day,  though  what  to  pray  for  I  scarce  know." 
And  she  also  looked  at  Mihr-un-nissa.  The  latter  rose  vexedly 
and  left  them.  She  knew  what  was  in  their  thoughts;  knew  that 


142  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

the  reason  why  Ghiyass-ud-din's  advice  was  spurned  was  that 
he  was  her  father ;  knew  that  the  long  unusual  delay  in  the  mar- 
riage of  the  royal  lovers  Khurrarn  and  Arjamand  was  due  to 
the  fact  that  the  bride  was  her  niece.  As  she  walked  away  she 
heard  the  young  Prince's  voice  :  "  Even  if  he  had  such  a  coun- 
sellor as  thou  art  to  me,  O  Most  Wise " 

"Or  as  Arjamand  will  be,  O  my  son  !"  broke  in  the'old  spent 
voice  sympathetically. 

"Ay,  when  it  comes!  But  I  weary,  grandmother.  I  waste 
my  youth  in  longing." 

It  was  all  true.  Yet  what  could  she  do?  They  could  not 
ask  her  to  forgive  the  man  who  had  wrecked  her  life.  But  had 
he  wrecked  it  ?  She  made  her  way  to  the  cupola'ed  bastion  which 
had  been  her  favourite  station  as  a  child,  and  seating  herself 
there,  looked  out  over  the  Sea  of  Roses  and  asked  herself  the 
question.  Had  her  life  been  wrecked  ?  No,  a  thousand  times 
no  !  That  past  was  gone,  but,  with  her  clear  sight,  she  could 
not  but  see  that  her  life  was  fuller,  more  complete.  She  was 
independent  as  she  had  never  been  before.  Her  embroideries, 
her  paintings,  her  confectionaries  were  known  far  and  near  in 
the  women's  world.  "  'Tis  Mihr-un-nissa's  making,"  was  a 
cachet  that  admitted  no  criticism.  And  she  was  happy ;  un- 
doubtedly she  was  happy,  even  though  as  she  leaned  over  the 
parapet  she  seemed  to  see  Ali  Kul's  kindly  scarred  face  as  she 
had  first  seen  it. 

The  thought  brought  her  no  tears ;  only  a  fiercer  spirit  of 
revenge  against  the  man  who  had  cut  her  husband  off  in  his 
prime.  Yet  how  different  that  revenge  of  hers,  so  sweet,  so 
complete,  had  been  from  the  crude  killing  she  had  conceived  at 
first  ?  Four  years  of  gradual  degeneration ;  four  years  of  dis- 
content ;  that  was  something  like  revenge  ! 

She  gloated  over  it,  setting  far  from  her  the  thought  that  this 
degeneracy  involved  the  ruin  of  an  Empire.  Yet,  as  ever  in  the 
midst  of  her  exultation,  her  husband's  kindly  words  came  back 
to  her  :  "  Be  not  too  lavish  of  blame  !  'Tis  never  fair  to  judge 
us  poor  men  folk  by  what  we  seem  to  do.  'Tis  what  we  really 
do  that  merits  punishment,  and  what  that  is  God  only  knows." 
True  enough  !  But  even  if  Jahangir  had  not  lied  when  he  said 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  143 

he  had  not  ordered  the  murder,  even  if  he  had  only  meant  to 
take  her,  if  not  legally,  at  least  peaceably,  it  made  no  difference. 
He  was  still  blood-guilty ;  he  should  have  known,  he  must  have 
known,  his  tools  would  have  no  scruples. 

The  sound  of  a  step  on  the  foot-wide  stair  that  clung  to  the 
wall  made  her  peer  over,  to  see  Phusla  the  snake-charmer, 
Phusla  the  Strangler. 

'  •'  I  have  news,  Bibi, ' '  he  said  in  explanation,  ' '  and  seeing 
the  Most  Gracious  from  my  station  by  the  cactus-hedge,  came  to 
impart  it — in  private." 

She  bade  him  come  up  and  sit,  which  he  did,  squatting  as  far 
from  her  as  the  narrow  limits  of  the  bastion  would  permit.- 

"  'Tis  had  from  the  Deccan,"  he  continued.  "  The  Royal 
troops  have  been  routed.  They  were  but  half-hearted,  see  you, 
since  sedition  grows  apace.  Prince  Parviz  hath  the  army  with 
him,  and  God  knows  if  he  be  loyal  or  not.  He  is  older  by  two 
years  than  Prince  Khurram,  and,  now  that  Prince  Khushrau 
hath  no  chance  of  succession,  might  well  put  in  his  claim ;  being 
as  he  is  full  Mussulman,  while  Khurram  is  half  Hindu." 

"Peace,  slave!"  interrupted  Mihr-un-nissa  imperiously. 
"  Thine  office  is  to  bring  news,  not  to  comment  upon  it.  Hast 
any  definite  knowledge  of  conspiracy?" 

In  an  instant  her  ready  mind  had  seized  on  the  idea  that  if 
her  favourite  Prince  Khurram  were  to  have  his  succession  dis- 
puted, it  might  be  well  that  a  crisis  should  not  come  quite  so 
quickly. 

"  Nothing,  Most  Gracious,"  replied  the  snake-charmer  sub- 
missively. "  'Tis  talk ;  but  talk  turns  to  trouble  in  a  night." 

"  Xo  other  news?"  she  asked,  her  mind  with  what  she  had 
heard. 

"Only  that  His  Majesty  the  Emperor  hath  to  date  killed 
twelve  black  buck,  forty-four  gazelle,  five  bears,  108  blue  bulls, 
beside  1,126  partridges." 

She  roused  herself  angrily.  "  Peace,  fool  !  What  care  I 
for  the  Emperor's  slaughter-house?" 

The  old  man  gave  a  grim  chuckle.  "  The  Most  Gracious 
was  not  brought  up  to  love  the  Noose  of  Death  as  I."  As  he 
spoke  he  slipped  off  the  soft  strip  of  crimson  silk  he  wore  ever 


H4  M/STRESS  OF  MEN 

as  a  girdle  and  passed  it  through  his  ringers  caressingly.  "  Lo  ! 
it  hath  given  freedom  to  many,  and  the  hand  that  holds  it  hath 
dealt  death  to  many ;  yet  the  Bibi  shrinks  not  from  this  slave. 
That  is  because  he  hath  not  dealt  it  to  one  she  loves.  That  is 
all  the  difference.  The  act  is  the  same."  There  was  a  curious 
expression  on  the  wizened  face,  half  mocking,  half  sympathetic. 

"It  is  ever  so  with  women-kind,"  he  went  on — "ay,  and 
\vith  most  men  also.  'Tis  how  it  touches  them  that  makes  right 
and  wrong." 

She  looked  at  him,  dissenting. 

"  Murder  is  ever  wrong,  slave,"  she  began. 

"Ever?"  he  queried,  interrupting  her  almost  cavalierly. 
"  Say  not  so.  Lo !  I  will  give  case,  and  the  Most  High  shall 
judge."  He  settled  himself  comfortably  ere  he  commenced  in 
the  sing-song  of  the  story-teller:  "There  was  a  Bungler  once 
who  killed  a  brave  man  by  stabbing  him  through  a  tent  wall 
with  a  long  dagger  that  reached  the  heart." 

Mihr-un-nissa  started.  "What  dost  mean,  slave?"  she 
exclaimed. 

"  Naught,  Most  Gracious,"  answered  the  old  man,  whose  face 
was  imperturbable  in  its  calm.  "  'Tis  an  old  trick  of  the 
assassin.  Lo  !  for  myself  I  hold  the  Noose" — he  paused — 
"  but  of  that,  nothing  !  And  there  was  another  man  who 
ordered  a  Strangler  to  kill  the  Bungler  for  his  deed.  Wouldst 
say  that  his  crime  equalled  the  Bungler's  crime,  or  that  the 
Bungler's  crime  equalled  the  crime  of  those  who  gave  him  the 
order  to  stab  through  the  tent  wall?" 

Mihr-un-nissa's  breath  came  quick  and  fast.  "  Cease  prating 
of  thy  Bungler  and  Strangler,  old  man,"  she  cried  fiercely. 
"  Whose  was  the  order?" 

The  old  snake-charmer  gave  a  mirthless  chuckle.  "  Which 
order,  Huzoor?  Lo  !  they  were  both  to  kill,  and  some  think 
'twas  the  same  mind  that  fathered  both  thoughts.  Yet  I  know 
naught  but  this.  The  order  to  kill  the  killer  came  to  me,  the 
Head  of  the  Tribe,  and  I  obeyed.  A  life  is  such  a  little  thing, 
Most  Gracious.  It  is  so  easy  to  take.  If  the  Huzoor  gives 
orders  they  will  be  obeyed." 

His  soft  eyes  looked  up  into  hers  with  gentle  deference. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  145 

"Strangler!"  she  cried  suddenly,  "  thou  art  an  awesome 
man — go,  get  thee  to  thy  snakes  !" 

After  he  had  gone  she  sat  till  dark  fell,  thinking  ever  A /hat 
he  had  said.  If  it  was  true,  if,  as  he  had  hinted,  ths  Emperor 
had  meted  out  death  to  the  death-dealer,  what  then?  Was  the 
crime  the  same?  Yes!  A  thousand  times  th:;  same.  The 

Emperor  was  guilty ;  and  yet She  gave  a  rierce  sigh,  and, 

leaning  on  her  elbows,  looked  out  over  the  dar!;iing  Sea  of  Rcses. 
Her  woman's  life  was  almost  over ;  that  she  knew  was  inevitable ; 
but  surging  up  within  her  came  a  consciousness  that  something 
better,  something  more  germane  to  her  real  self,  might  be  pos- 
sible in  the  future.  So  far,  she  had  never  yet  met  her  match, 
not  for  brains  perhaps,  though  hers  were  good  enough,  but  for 
general  capability,  for  keen  vitality.  In  those  old  days  she  had 
been  able  to  outweary  Ali  Kul,  strong  man  though  he  was.  Her 
nerves  were  iron,  her  slender  muscles  as  steel.  What  was  there 
then  between  her  and  a  man's  life  save  sex ;  and  sex  was  going. 
And  suddenly  all  the  past  seemed  to  slip  from  her  1'ke  the 
chrysalis  from  the  dragon-fly,  and  for  a  moment  she  felt  new 
wings,  shimmering,  iridescent  wings. 

So  with  a  little  sob  she  rose  up  and  went  down  the  foot-wid<- 
stairs  to  the  garden.  It  might  be  a  perilous  path,  she  thought, 
that  path  she  saw  opening  before  her,  as,  carefully  in  the  dark, 
she  found  her  footing;  yet  in  a  way  it  would  be  a  greater 
revenge  on  Fate — ay,  even  on  the  man  who  had  done  her  such 
a  deadly  injury — than  the  more  obvious  one.  To  save  an  Empire 
was  better  than  to  ruin  one. 

She  found  the  Khanzada  and  Maryam  Zamani,  who  had  come 
over  with  Prince  Khurram,  waiting,  in  a  marble-domed  room  set 
with  floriated  tendrils  of  gold  and  looking-glass  like  the  one  at 
the  Palace  in  Agra,  for  the  evening  rea  ling  of  poetry ;  for  Mihr- 
un-nissa  was  a  practised  elocutionist.  J'y  the  light  of  the  cresset 
lamps,  their  fine  old  womanly  faces  sh  wed  worn  and  anxious. 

She  took  up  the  volume  of  Sa'adi  thai  was  lying  by  the  read- 
ing-desk and  began,  the  Persian  rhythms  falling  softly  from 

her  lips  : 

"  There  lingered  still  some  little  of  the  Night 
When  one  of  faery  face  put  out  the  Light ; 
Like  a  spent  soul,  its  smoke  arose  and  sighed. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Look  down  !     Ah  !     Now,  indeed,  Love  endeth  Right ; 
This  is  the  Road  !     Ah,  take  it !     Learn  of  me  ; 
Dying,  thou  gainest  Love's  best  ecstasy. 
Art  thou  afraid  ?     Ah,  then  I  say  to  thee, 
Launch  not  thy  boat  upon  Love's  boundless  Sea  ; 
But  if  thou  venture — then  hoist  sail,  quit  anchor, 
To  storm  and  wave  trust  thyself  hardily  !" 

Her  voice  jL::nd  echo  in  the  vaulted  roof,  where  myriads  on 
myriads  of  tiny  mirrors  reflected  the  scene  that  lay  below. 
Myriads  on  myriac  •.  of  women  listening  to  those  words  : 

"  Dying,  thou  gainest  Love's  best  ecstasy  !" 

listening  with  all  their  ears,  and  understanding — nothing  ! 

The  sound  died  away  into  a  murmuring  as  of  many  bees. 
Then  there  was  silence  until  Jahangir's  mother  spoke. 

"  If  thou  couldst  forgive  him,  daughter?  He  might  listen  to 
thee.  He  hath  never  forgotten " 

"  Wash  not  hand 

From  that  dear  Stain  of  Love  !     From  worldly  brand 
Of  Self  and  Pleasure  wash  it," 

q \oted  Racquiya  Begum  with  a  break  in  her  voice. 

Mihr-un-nissa  stood  for  an  instant  looking  at  them,  superb 
in  her  extraordinary  beauty,  almost  terrible  in  her  set  deter- 
mination. 

"  He  killed  Ali  Kul,"  she  said,  and  left  them. 


CHAPTER  VII 

"  With  Woman's  veil  and  turban  Man-ways  tied 
A  Vision  came — most  fair  to  me.     I  cried, 
'  Lo  !  art  thou  Man  or  Woman  thus  arrayed  ?' 
'  Nay,  I  am  neither.     I  am  Love,   it  sighed." 

ARJAMAND  BAKU  sat  in  the  marble  summer-house  of  the  Garden 
of  Roses,  teaching  Gladness,  now  a  bright-faced  girl  of  nine, 
how  to  weave  a  bridal  chaplet  of  jasmine  stars  and  rosebuds. 

"  Thou  must  give  it  to  thy  dolly  and  prepare  a  wedding-feast 
for  her,"  said  the  elder  girl  lightly.  She  was  a  very  pretty  girl, 
very  sweet-looking,  but  she  lacked  the  animation  which  at  her 
age — just  eighteen — should  have  been  hers. 

"  Nay,  cousin,"  replied  the  little  maid  solemnly.  "  Dolly  is 
married  already." 

"  Then  wear  it  thyself,"  smiled  Arjamand,  flinging  the 
finished  flower  garland  over  .the  child's  head. 

"  Nay !  cousin,"  protested  the  small  maiden,  still  more 
solemnly.  "I  am  too  young  yet  for  weddings.  Amma-jdn 
says  so.  She  says  I  must  wait  years  and  years  before  the  dates 
are  sent.  It  is  a  pity;  but  thou  must  wear  it  thyself." 

And  with  that  she  tried  to  transfer  the  chaplet,  Arjamand 
resisting  with  almost  unnecessary  vehemence.  "  Nay,  nay  !" 
persisted  the  latter.  "  If  thou  art  too  young,  I  am  too  old. 
'Tis  true,  dearest,  I  grow  far  too  old." 

And  then  suddenly,  causelessly,  it  seemed  to  the  child,  she 
burst  out  crying,  and  sat  covering  her  face  with  her  hands  to 
hide  her  tears. 

"  What  is't,  dearest?"  asked  Mihr-un-nissa,  coming  at  the 
sound  of  sobs  from  the  inner  arcade,  where  she  had  been  at 
work,  and  laying  a  sympathetic  hand  on  the  girl's  head.  "  Hath 
Gladness  hurt  thee  ?  She  is  over  rough,  I  fear.  Thou  shouldst 
be  more  gentle,  child " 

Gladness  pouted.      "  Nay,  amma,  I  did  nothing  to  her.      I 

14? 


148  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

but  tried  to  put  the  wedding  garland  round  her  neck,  and  she 
said  she  was  too  old.  And  on  that  she  began  to  blub.  If  she 
be  too  old  to  marry  she  can  be  a  canoness.  'Tis  a  lovely  life, 
with  none  to  worry  you.  Ah,  fie,  Cousin  Arjamand  !  That  is 
not  courageous  ! ' ' 

And  with  that  the  little  maid  stalked  away,  indignant. 

Mihr-un-nissa,  with  a  pang  at  her  heart,  sat  down  beside  the 
girl,  and  drawing  the  hand  that  bore  the  gold  betrothal  ring 
away  from  the  tear-stained  face,  stroked  it  consolingly.  "  Doth 
it  hurt  so  much  as  that,  child?"  she  asked  pitifully,  yet  in  a 
measure  uncomprehendingly. 

"Ay,"  sobbed  the  girl,  and  then  suddenly  she  burst  out 
almost  angrily.  "  Oh,  if  thou  wouldst  but  be  kind,  we  might 
be  happy  !  Nanni  says  so,  and  father  says  so — and — and — he, 
I  am  sure,  thinks  so." 

Mihr-un-nissa  released  the  hand,  rested  her  elbow  on  her 
knee;  so,  with  chin  upon  her  palm,  looked  steadily  away  from 
the  girlish  figure,  all  trembling  with  its  trouble. 

"And  what  says  grandfather?"  she  asked  suddenly. 

Arjamand,  drying  her  tears  furtively  with  her  veil,  answered 
in  doleful  accents :  "  Grandfather  says  thou  art  the  best 
judge " 

"  For  which  Heaven  be  praised  !"  put  in  Mihr-un-nissa 
devoutly.  "  But  see  you,  dearest,"  she  went  on  kindly,  "  though 
'tis  doubtless  true  that  the  Emperor  took  umbrage  at  me  in  years 
gone  by,  what  warranty  have  I  he  cares  for'  forgiveness? 
Wouldst  have  me  offer  myself  to  a  man?" 

Arjamand  sat  up  now,  looking  at  her  aunt  with  sombre  eyes. 
"  Wherefore  not?"  she  replied,  "  since  there  lives  not  one  on 
God's  earth  but  would  be  proud  to  take  you.  Dost  know,  aunt, 
that  thou  hast  never  reckoned  with  thy  surpassing  beauty  ?  Lo  ! 
when  I  saw  thee  last  night  fresh  from  the  bath,  with  all  that 
glorious  hair  of  thine  enshadowing  thee  from  head  to  foot,  I 
thought — nay,  I  knew — no  man  would  ever  forget  thee — for 
ever  and  ever  and  aye  thou  wouldst  be  his  vision  of  beauty." 

Mihr-un-nissa's  face  grew  stern.  "And  if  I  despise  him?" 
she  began." 

"  Thou  canst  not  despise  the  King,"  interrupted  Arjamand 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  149 

with  a  tinge  of  horror  in  her  voice.  "  He  is  God's  Viceregent 
upon  earth."  And  she  joined  her  little  palms  together  and 
bowed  her  head  between  them  in  respectful  homage. 

This  argument  was  new  to  Mihr-un-nissa,  and  she  admitted  its 
validity  to  a  certain  extent  as  she  went  back  to  work.  Un- 
doubtedly Jahangir  was  the  Lord's  Anointed,  but  that  was  no 
reason  why  she  should  forgive  his  trespasses  against  her,  why 
she  should  forgo  her  revenge.  And  if  no  man  could  forget  her 
beauty,  there  was  the  less  virtue  in  Jahangir's  faithfulness — if 
indeed  he  was  faithful. 

As  the  days  went  on  the  little  coterie  in  the  Rose-Garden 
became  increasingly  sad,  for  increasingly  bad  news  came  from 
the  Deccan,  where  one  trouble  after  another  followed  in  quick 
succession.  Even  the  advent  of  the  New  Year  scarcely  sufficed 
to  raise  their  spirits.  Yet  it  was  an  auspicious  time.  Majesty 
was  returning,  as  ever,  to  celebrate  it  with  pomp  at  Agra,  and 
everyone  must  be  in  attendance.  Mihr-un-nissa  begged  to  be 
excused,  but  the  old  Khanzada  was  firm. 

"  Thou  needst  not  join  in  the  rejoicings,"  she  said,  "  but 
thou  art  of  the  Court,  even  if  thou  refuses!  the  pension  the  Most 
High  awards  thee,  and  which  he,  of  his  bounty,  bestows  upon 
the  poor." 

For  once  in  her  life  Mihr-un-nissa  gave  a  feminine  reply. 
"  More  likely  the  overseer  takes  it  as  perquisite,"  she  suggested 
bitterly. 

Khanzada  Racquiya  Begum  looked  at  her  mildly.  "  Yet 
were  Majesty's  orders  otherwise.  So  it  counts  for  virtue  to  him." 

Her  hearer  bit  her  lip  to  keep  down  the  retort  that  Majesty's 
orders  were  responsible  not  only  for  good,  but  for  evil.  What 
was  the  use,  however,  of  argument?  The  plea  urged  by  old 
Dilaram  that  the  Emperor  was  the  Emperor,  and  the  rest  of  the 
world  his  subjects,  was  much  more  to  the  point.  So  one  morn- 
ing the  whole  party  started  in  dhoolis.  They  were  to  rest  at  a 
half-way  sarai  for  the  hot  hours  of  the  day  and  reach  Agra  that 
evening.  The  ceremonial  entry  had  been  fixed  by  astrologers 
for  the  next  morning,  March  21. 

Late  March  is  probably  the  time  of  all  others  in  which 
Northern  India  is  at  its  best;  and  this  year  of  grace  1611  the 


150  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

winter  rains  had  been  good,  while  further  showers  in  February 
had  conduced  to  a  bumper  crop.  Once  the  little  party  passed 
the  seas  of  roses,  leaving  even  the  scent  behind  them,  they  came 
out  into  a  wide,  open,  fertile  plain,  a  sea  of  corn  fast  ripening 
to  harvest ;  the  fields — guiltless  of  fences,  and  relying  for  demar- 
cation only  on  little  cones  of  unbaked  mud  hidden  by  the  stand 
ing  crops — stretching  away  to  the  horizon  in  rich  promise  for  the 
future.  But  as  they  neared  the  half-way  house  the  aspect  of 
affairs  changed.  Here  much  of  the  tall  wheat  was  beaten  to  the 
ground ;  the  green  crops  had  been  cut  for  fodder,  and  great  tracks 
as  of  the  passing  of  men  or  animals  showed  everywhere.  The 
headmen  of  the  half-way  village  were  in  readiness  to  receive  the 
cortege,  as  in  duty  bound,  with  offerings  of  sugar-candy,  raisins 
and  nuts.  They  were  white  and  black  bearded  men,  profuse  of 
sad  smiles,  and  with  almost  preposterous  deference  for  the 
Court  ladies.  The  old  Khanzada  interviewed  them  in  right  royal 
fashion,  calling  them  her  children,  and  making  the  usual  per- 
functory inquiries  as  to  the  prosperity  of  the  village.  To  all  of 
which  a  chorus  of  assenting  voices  proclaimed  that  under  the 
rule  of  that  Pillar  of  the  Faith,  that  Light  of  the  World,  Nur- 
ud-din  Jahangir,  all  villages,  all  men,  were  prosperous.  Yet 
Mihr-un-nissa,  sitting  silent  behind  her  veil,  watched  their  eyes 
wander  to  their  ruined  crops  even  as  they  spoke.  In  a  flash  she 
made  up  her  mind.  Passing  rapidly  out  through  a  side  door  into 
the  cloistered  sarai,  she  came  upon  Dilaram  contentedly  smoking 
her  pipe.  To  seize  the  ample  veil  of  the  good  woman,  cast  it 
round  herself,  bid  the  startled  owner  retire  out  of  sight  without 
an  instant's  delay,  and  sit  down  in  her  stead,  did  not  take  long. 
She  knew  perfectly  well  what  the  old  lady  had  been  awaiting, 
and  as  the  headmen  trooped  out  from  their  interview,  she  was 
ready  with  outstretched  palm  for  the  douceur  to  which,  as  atten- 
dant of  the  Beneficent  Ladies,  she  had  a  right. 

The  eldest  of  the  men,  a  veritable  pantaloon  with  a  white 
beard,  who  was  evidently  the  purse-bearer,  advanced  towards  her 
and  held  out  a  coin. 

"  Traa !"  she  said,  imitating  Dilaram's  rough  tongue  as 
nearly  as  she  could.  "That  be  too  small." 

The  old  man  muttered  something  about  poverty,  which  she 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  151 

interrupted  with  a  laugh.  "  Lo  !  then  I  take  naught, ' '  she 
said;  then  lowered  her  voice.  "  I  am  not  as  the  others" — she 
tossed  her  head  backwards  to  indicate  those  within — "  who  grab 
at  all  things.  I  am  daughter  of  the  fields  !  Sit  down,  father, 
and  tell  me,  how  comes  it  that  the  village  is  poor?" 

The  old  man  pocketed  the  offered  money  in  haste;  he  could 
say  he  had  given  it,  and,  as  such  expenses  cam3  out  of  the 
general  fund,  be,  by  that,  the  richer. 

"Dost  ask  why?"  he  answered,  "and  thou  a  daughter  of 
the  fields  ?  If  thou  hadst  eyes  thou  wouldst  see.  Our  crops  are 
ruined.  The  Emperor's  camp  passed  hither  yesterday;  it  is 
as  a  horde  of  locusts." 

"  But  thou  hast  compensation,"  she  said  quickly.  "  Ay,  and 
in  full.  'Tis  the  command  of  the  Emperor  !" 

The  old  man  smiled  the  peasant's  mirthless  smile.  "  Of  a 
truth,  daughter,  thou  knowest  little  !  Yea,  yea  !  The  Em- 
peror gives  the  order,  but  the  overseers  heed  it  not.  Yea,  yea, 
the  money  is  paid,  but  not  to  us.  So  goes  it  ever  when  the  eye 
of  the  Most  Mighty  is  turned  away  from  his  servants.  Lo  ! 
when  he  turns  it  on,  there  is  gladness,  yea,  even  in  the  littlest 
things.  See  you,  but  yesterday  the  Most  Exalted — may  he  live 
for  ever — came  on  a  child  crying  because  they  had  taken  his  pet 
lamb — for  pillau,  they  said,  to  the  Most  Mighty,  but  I  mis- 
doubt me  it  was  for  some  underling.  And  he  waxed  wroth,  and 
had  the  man  who  took  it  beaten  with  staves,  and  gave  ten  rupees 
to  the  child — he  is  my  grandson,  daughter — as  consolation." 

"  Then  thou  art  not  so  poor !"  commented  Mihr-un-nissa 
dryly.  "  So  thou  canst  give  me  back  the  coin  thou  hast  put  in 
thy  pocket." 

But  pantaloon-/'*'  had  risen  at  her  first  hint,  and  was  ambling 
off.  Mihr-un-nissa,  having  assured  herself  of  what  she  needed 
to  know,  had  dismissed  him  cunningly. 

All  that  afternoon,  as  she  was  jogging  along  to  Agra,  her 
thoughts  were  busy.  A  vague  indignation,  not  against  but  for 
the  Emperor,  made  itself  felt.  Was  there  no  person  about  him 
capable  of  seeing  that  orders  which  sprang  from  innate  kindness 
of  heart  were  carried  out?  A  man  like  her  father,  wise  beyond 
most — but  he,  alas  !  was  useless 


152  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

So  she  circled  round  and  round  the  old  question  restlessly. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  she  should  spend  the  first  night 
with  her  mother,  in  order  to  leave  Gladness  in  her  charge  before 
she  went  on  to  the  palace  ceremonials.  She  felt  glad  of  this 
now,  since  it  would  give  her  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  her 
father,  and  every  moment  of  time  she  was  feeling  more  and  more 
the  need  of  someone  on  whose  judgment  she  could  rely. 

Yet  when  she  found  herself  face  to  face  with  the  grave,  grey- 
bearded  man  whose  every  thought  came  with  almost  mathematical 
precision,  and  who  would  no  more  make  allowance  for  frail 
humanity  than  he  would  make  an  allowance  for  a  fault  in 
arithmetic,  she  found  herself  tongue-tied  to -all  but  everyday 
questionings  as  to  the  real  state  of  the  Empire.  Here  Ghiyass- 
ud-din  had  not  a  very  optimistic  tale  to  tell. 

"  In  the  Deccan,"  he  said,  "  things  be  as  bad  as  well  can  be. 
Orders  have  doubtless  been  given,  but  in  the  plentitude  of 
executants  naught  is  carried  out.  The  Emperor  hath  sent  more 
than  enough  money,  and  troops  sufficient.  But  he  hath  not  the 
leaders  in  his  grip " 

"Hast  heard  if  Prince  Parviz  be  disloyal — to  his  father?" 
asked  Mihr-un-nissa  curtly. 

"  To  his  father,  I  misdoubt  me.  With  all  his  faults  Jahangir 
hath  the  knack  of  dutiful  sons " 

"  Except  Prince  Khushrau  !"  put  in  Mihr-un-nissa. 

"  Even  Khushrau  hath  no  enmity  to  him  now;  but  were  the 
Emperor  to  die,  those  three,  Parviz,  Khushrau,  and  Khurram, 
would  be  at  each  other's  throats." 

"  And  which  would  win?" 

Ghiyass-ud-din  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Khurram  hath  advantage,  being  his  father's  nominee. 
Parviz  has  that  of  orthodoxy.  'Tis  a  powerful  lever,  since  even 
now  folk  are  not  yet  reconciled  to  believers  and  unbelievers 
being  as  one.  And  Khushrau  hath  pity  to  his  share,  and 
primogeniture.  Yea,  he  hath  a  bigger  following  than  most 
think,  witness  the  strange  affair  at  Patna  but  the  other  day,  when 
a  mere  impostor,  saying  he  was  Prince  Khushrau  escaped  from 
custody,  rallied  enough  adherents  to  take  the  fort.  So  there 
would  be  disturbances  and  oppressions  and  strife.  But  God 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  153 

send  the  Emperor  be  wiser  in  the  future  than  he  hath  been  in  the 
past !     Sure,  no  man  can  stand  such  potations  for  long." 

Mihr-un-nissa  felt  she  had  heard  all  this  before,  and  what  she 
needed  was  to  know  exactly,  not  what  the  courtiers  thought,  but 
what  the  people,  who  crowded  the  bazaars  and  who  to-morrow 
would  pack  in  dense  multitudes  to  see  the  show,  were  suffering. 
There  was  but  one  way  to  find  this  out,  and  it  was  simple.  She 
must  continue  what  she  had  begun  that  afternoon,  and  go  her- 
self, as  the  Caliph  Haroun-ul-Raschid  had  done,  to  see  with  her 
own  eyes,  hear  with  her  own  ears. 

Already  the  city  was  all  agog  with  preparations  for  the 
morrow ;  now,  then,  was  the  time  ! 

There  are  many  high-class  Mahomedan  houses  where  the 
screened  women,  on  occasion,  adopt  the  habit  of  men,  and  so 
pass,  in  the  gloaming  or  at  night-time,  where  they  would  not 
venture  in  women's  garments.  The  style  of  dress  makes  this 
easy.  A  big  turban  hides  long  hair,  the  loose  shawl  covers 
feminine  contours.  So — not  without  objections  from  Dilaram, 
who,  however,  was  appeased  by  being  allowed  to  accompany  her 
mistress — the  two  slipped  out  on  their  adventure  so  soon  as  dark- 
ness made  this  possible.  Dilaram's  face  was  of  a  type  suffi- 
ciently common  to  pass  muster.  With  a  wisp  of  unbleached 
cotton-wool  to  do  duty  as  a  beard,  just  showing  under  the  throat- 
encircling  folds  of  a  heavy  brown  blanketing,  she  looked  the 
peasant  in  for  a  holiday.  Mihr-un-nissa,  dressed  similarly, 
obscured  her  beauty  with  a  dirty  bandage  under  her  chin  and 
slanting  across  one  eye,  as  if  she  had  a  toothache.  Both  were 
quite  unrecognizable,  and  mixing  with  the  crowd  that  was  surg 
ing  through  the  streets,  were  soon  lost  in  it. 

The  whole  city  was  en  fete  for  the  morrow's  ceremonials. 
Everywhere  Court  officials  were  busy  hectoring  unpaid  workmen 
over  the  putting  up  of  rich  brocades,  the  laying  down  of  carpets, 
the  setting  of  the  thousand  and  one  tiny  oil  lamps  which  on  the 
following  night  were  to  illumine  the  Palace.  It  was  perilous 
work  in  some  places,  and  Mihr-un-nissa  watched  with  a  sickening 
heart  one  old  man,  urged  by  threats  from  below,  climb  the  top- 
most pinnacle  of  the  Fort  Mosque.  She  seemed  to  know  what 
would  happen,  and  when  it  did,  when  the  sudden  slip  came,  the 


154  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

quick  scream,  and  then  the  dull  thud,  she  struggled  as  one  pos- 
sessed not  to  be  dragged  towards  the  spot  by  the  inrush  of  the 
crowd  of  which  she  formed  part. 

When  the  pressure  was  over,  when  the  back-draw  of  satiated 
curiosity  began,  she  found  she  had  been  separated  from  her  com- 
panion. So  much  the  better,  she  thought,  for  her  blood  was 
up.  She  meant  to  see  everything,  hear  everything  she  could, 
and  Dilaram  hampered  her. 

That  night  was  an  education  in  itself.  Up  and  down  she 
wandered,  sitting  at  times  beside  a  sweetmeat-seller,  munching  a 
farthing's  worth  of  batdsa,  listening  with  all  her  ears.  Then 
out  on  to  the  levels  by  the  river,  where  a  fair  was  being  held, 
drifting  along  with  thousands  of  others  through  the  lanes,  all 
edged  with  little  lights,  behind  which  sat  sellers  of  every  kind  of 
toy  and  trifle — glass  bangles,  little  brass  gods,  rosaries,  charms, 
betel-boxes,  lacquer-work — all  things  and  everything.  But  folk 
were  too  much  interested  by  these  trivialities  to  talk  much  save 
for  rough  jests  and  laughter,  while  the  sound  of  many  voices  and 
the  banging  of  cymbals  and  tom-toms  drowned  all  confidential 
whisperings.  So  she  drifted  away  again  to  the  city,  where  the 
more  staid  of  all  sorts  and  kinds  sat  in  little  knots  on  the  outside 
edge  of  the  shifting,  merry-making  crowd,  and  discussed  village 
politics  and  town  gossip. 

And  everywhere  she  overheard  the  same  tale  of  orders  neg- 
lected, or  kindness  of  heart  frustrated  by  disloyalty.  Some  of 
the  stories  made  her  clench  her  hands  and  long  for  revenge — 
not  punishment,  but  revenge  pure  and  simple;  for  she  was  true 
woman  in  this — she  admitted  no  compromise. 

Once  and  once  only  she  came  nigh  detection,  and  that  was  in  a 
narrow  street  where  flower-decked  balconies  and  an  all-pervading 
scent  of  musk  told  the  profession  of  the  painted  women  who 
sat  at  the  receipt  of  custom.  It  was  here,  if  anywhere,  Mihr-un- 
nissa  knew,  she  might  come  upon  things  worth  hearing,  and  she 
had  been  hanging  about  for  some  time  in  the  stream  of  idlers 
when  she  apparently  attracted  the  notice  of  a  somewhat  fat, 
somewhat  elderly  female,  whose  artificial  allurements  covered 
the  loss  of  natural  charm. 

"  Thou  art  too  pretty  a  fellow  to  pass  pleasure  by,"  came  her 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  155 

voice,  raucous  with  long  years  of  the  singing  of  indecent  songs. 
"  Come  hither,  my  charmer,  and  I  will  comfort  thee. "  And  she 
laid  a  clutching  hand  on  Mihr-un-nissa's  shoulder  and  leered 
at  her. 

"  If  thou  hast  no  money  she  will  give  thee  credit,"  jeered  a 
half -drunken  habitue".  "  Come,  show  thyself  a  man  !" 

Mihr-un-nissa  gave  one  look  round,  realized  that  her  only 
safety  from  those  evil-looking,  sensuous  men  lay  in  immediate 
flight,  wrenched  her  shoulder  from  the  painted  grip,  and  fled, 
pursued  by  deafening  laughter  and  coarse  jokes. 

She  had  heard  much  that  night  to  leave  sharp  mark  upon  her 
very  soul,  but  this  was  almost  too  much.  Sick  with  absolute 
loathing  of  womanhood  and  manhood  so  debased,  she  would  see 
no  more  of  life,  and  made  her  way  home,  to  find  Dilaram  half 
distraught  with  fear. 

"Of  what?"  asked  Mihr-un-nissa  contemptuously.  "Of 
myself,  likely  !  Leave  me,  I  say ;  I  would  rest  awhile  ere  I  go 
to  the  Palace." 

When  she  was  alone,  she  threw  off  in  disgust  her  man's  dis- 
guise, discarded  all  garments  that  told  of  womanhood,  flinging 
both  into  a  corner  in  a  disordered  heap,  and,  wrapping  herself 
in  the  coarse  outside  shawl  that  belongs  to  both  sexes,  sat  down 
by  the  window. 

"So!"  she  muttered.  "There  goes  humanity!  Now  for 
thought !" 

What  was  she  to  decide  ?     What  was  she  to  do  ? 

The  rising  sun  found  her  still  thinking.  Then  thought 
became  impossible  while  the  glorious  pageant  of  the  light  went 
on.  She  sat  still,  almost  unconscious  of  her  world,  while  the 
light  grew  on  her  beautiful  face;  but  when  the  miracle  of  sun- 
rise was  past,  when  the  gold  had  changed  to  turquoise,  when  the 
rosy  clouds  had  paled  to  fleecy  snow,  she  realized  that  her  mind 
must  have  been  working  all  the  time,  for  her  way  seemed  clear 
before  her. 

Revenge  she  wanted,  and  revenge  she  must  have;  but  it  must 
be  of  a  different  kind  from  that  in  the  past.  For  the  last  four 
years  she  had  lived,  rejoicing  in  the  gradual  decadence  of  the 
man  who  had  done  her  so  grave  an  injury.  Now,  if  it  were  still 


156  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

possible,  she  would  make  that  man  the  slave  of  her  will.  He 
should,  as  it  were,  live  through  her;  her  vitality  should  over- 
bear his  apathy  and  indolence.  She  would  at  last  be  Queen  not 
only  of  Women  but  of  Men  ! 

And  this  would  bring  with  it  other  advantages.  Conscious  as 
she  was  of  a  growing  power  in  herself,  a  power  undreamt  of  in 
her  youth,  this  would  give  her  a  free  field.  At  first,  doubtless, 
she  would  have  to  rely  on  her  womanhood  for  influence;  she 
would  not  be  able  to  escape  from  her  own  bodily  beauty ;  but 
she  could  sit  apart  in  her  soul  as  she  sat  now,  and  let  it  slip  by 
unnoticed. 

A  half  savage  delight  at  the  prospect  swept  through  her. 
Doubtless,  the  wrongs  of  a  people  misgoverned,  and  the  intoler- 
able disloyalty  of  those  in  authority,  were  factors  in  her  decision ; 
but  they  were  almost  forgotten  in  the  thought  that  here  before 
her  was  possibly  a  revenge  undreamt  of,  a  revenge  such  as  no 
woman  had  ever  had  before. 

But  it  might  not  be  possible.  What  should  she  do  towards 
making  it  so  ?  She  must  see  the  Emperor,  of  course ;  that  was 
certain.  Sick  as  she  was  of  the  unerring  effect  of  her  rare 
beauty  on  all  men,  she  admitted  she  had  no  better  weapon.  In 
the  meantime  she  would  send  Jahangir  a  New  Year's  bunch  of 
campanelle  jonquils.  So  much  she  was  in  a  measure  bound  to 
do.  So  much  she  could  do  without  forfeiture  of  self-respect. 

As  dawn  passed  to  day,  she  resumed  her  white  widow's  robe, 
and  was  carried  to  the  women's  apartments  in  the  Palace,  where 
she  was  lodged  in  her  old  quarters.  Dilaram  and  Phusla  accom- 
panied her.  The  latter  had  only  been  prevented  from  resuming 
the  role  of  Phusli  by  Dilaram's  stern  refusal  to  assist  at  a  resur- 
rection before  the  Day  of  Judgment. 

"  Traa  !"  she  snorted.  "  God  knows  His  own  work.  Phusli 
hath  been  in  His  keeping  these  three  years,  and  were  He  to  see 
her  walking  about  His  earth  once  more,  He  would  ask  why. 
Nay,  nay  !  Stick  to  thy  sex  which  thou  hast  lost,  old  man  ! 
See,  I  will  make  thee  a  scarlet  coat,  and  thou  shalt  wear  a  sword 
and  a  badge  like  the  best  o'  them." 

"  So  I  may  keep  the  Noose,  sister,  I  ask  no  more,"  replied  the 
old  Strangler  submissively. 


AflSTRESS  OF  MEN  157 

So  when  Mihr-un-nissa  repaired  to  the  palace  he  took  up  guard 
in  the  ante-room  as  before,  while  his  mistress  belaboured  her 
brain  as  to  what  message  she  was  to  send  with  the  jonquils. 
Something  that  was  quite  ceremonious  and  yet — no  !  there  must 
be  nothing  of  appeal  about  it ;  her  pride  forbade  that.  Finally, 
after  tearing  up  many  attempts,  it  stood  thus  in  her  fine  elegant 
caligraphy  : 

"  Humble  greetings  to  the  Most  High,  the  Pillar  of  Faith, 
the  Representation  of  the  Most  Merciful,  Nur-ud-din  Mahomed 
Jahangir,  Emperor  of  all  the  Indies,  Encircler  of  the  World, 
from  his  slave  and  servant,  Mihr-un-nissa." 

Then  she  added  as  an  afterthought,  "  Daughter  of  I'timad- 
daulet  Ghiyass-ud-din,  widow  of  Khan  AH  Kul  of  Burdwan." 
That,  at  any  rate,  told  the  truth;  that,  at  any  rate,  showed 
that  if  she  meant  to  forgive,  she  had  not  forgotten. 

After  she  had  sent  it  tied  to  the  regulation  bunch  of  jonquils, 
she  sat  in  her  balcony  listlessly  waiting  for  the  time  when  with 
the  other  ladies  of  the  harem  she  would  go  behind  the  screen  in 
the  new  building  which  had  been  devised  for  such  rejoicings  and 
watch  the  ceremonious  weighing  of  Majesty  against  gold  and 
silver  and  precious  stones.  Last  time  he  was  weighed  he  had 
tilted  the  scale  at  fifteen  stone.  It  was  expensive  for  Majesty  to 
weigh  so  much,  but  good  for  the  poor,  who  benefited  by  the  dis- 
tribution that  followed.  Yet  he  might  well  be  lighter  this  time, 
after  close  on  four  months  of  a  hunter's  life. 

So  the  trivial  thoughts  ran,  till  the  blood  flew  to  her  face,  then 
left  it  colourless  at  old  Phusla's  sudden  interruption  : 
"  The  Emperor  craves  admittance." 

So  soon  !     He  could  hardly,  as  yet,  have  received She 

curbed  her  rising  thoughts,  stood  up,  threw  back  her  veil,  and 
gave  permission  in  a  low  voice. 

Undoubtedly  he  was  thinner,  as  he  stood  where  he  had  stood 
four  years  ago;  not  in  golden  tissue  and  jewels  as  before,  but 
in  the  simple  morning  garb  of  a  Mahomedan  gentleman. 

"  Nur-ud-din  Mahomed  Jahangir,  Emperor  of  all  the  Indies, 
Encircler  of  all  the  Worlds,  hath  come,"  he  said,  and  his  voice 
betrayed  no  emotion,  "  to  tender  thanks  in  person  to  Mihr-un- 
nissa,  daughter  of  I'timad-daulat  Ghiyass-ud-din  Khan,  and 


158  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

widow  of  Khan  Ali  Kul  of  Burdwan,  murdered — but  not  oy  the 
Emperor's  orders." 

She  could  not  speak.  His  words  woke  all  the  past;  she 
could  only  wring  her  hands  together  and  say  in  a  muffled  voice  : 
"  Leave  that  to  God.  He  knows  !" 

Jahangir  took  a  step  forward.  "  Yea,  He  knows  !"  he  cried 
vehemently.  "  And  He  knows  how  all  these  years — all  these 
long,  long  years — I — have  waited."  His  voice  failed  him  sud- 
denly ;  he  held  out  his  hands  appealingly. 

"  Meru  !  Meru  !"  he  whispered,  his  whole  face  breaking  up 
with  the  intensity  of  his  desire.  "  Wilt  not  forgive?" 

"  Yea,"  she  answered  firmly,  holding  out  her  hand.  "  I  will 
forgive ;  but  even  the  Emperor  must  not  ask  me  to  forget ! ' ' 

Two  months  afterwards  they  were  married ;  married  so 
quietly  that  no  mention  is  made  in  Jahangir's  autobiography  of 
the  most  momentous  act  of  his  reign. 


BOOK    III 


CHAPTER  I 

"  A  ruby  cup  filled  up  with  ruby  wine 
Of  Love's  best  vintage  is  this  Heart  of  mine  ; 
Drink  of  it  as  thou  wouldst,  dear  one,  nor  fear, 
When  it  is  empty,  that  thou  wilt  repine." 

"  MIHR-UN-NISSA  art  thou  to  me  alone,  my  Queen  of  Women," 
said  Jahangir  fondly.  "  To  the  world  thou  art  from  this  day 
Nurmahal,  the  Light  of  Palaces." 

"  As  my  lord  pleasr  ,"  replied  the  woman  who,  dressed  with 
a  splendour  befittinp  her  rank  as  Empress  of  the  Emperor's 
whole  life,  occupier1  a  seat  on  the  royal  divan.  It  was  a  ques- 
tion whether  she  '-.as  more  beautiful  in  this  guise  than  she  had 
been  in  her  widow's  shroud,  but  of  the  beauty,  the  charm,  there 
could  be  no  question  at  all.  The  fame  of  it  remains  to  this 
day ;  she  is  the  Eastern  Helen. 

"  Art  not  satisfied,  my  life?"  came  the  quick  query,  and  she 
had  to  smile  and  lay  her  hand  on  his  to  appease  his  solicitude. 
They  had  been  married  close  on  a  year,  and  no  woman  with  a 
heart  could  have  experienced  such  child-like  devotion,  such  abso- 
lute trust,  without  a  growing  affection  for  the  donor.  Wayward 
as  he  was,  spoilt  child  of  fortune,  semi-savage  in  his  treatment 
of  many,  to  her  he  was  ever  the  diffident  lover.  What  he  had 
said  years  before,  when  he  upbraided  her  for  her  lack  of  under- 
standing, was  true.  Whatever  he  was  to  other  women,  his  pas- 
sionate love  for  her  was  reverence  itself.  That  touch  of  her 
hand  on  his  was  needed  to  give  him  courage  to  lay  his  lips  to  it. 

"  Yea,  I  am  satisfied  in  most  ways,"  she  replied.  She  would 
have  been  exigeant  had  she  not  been  so,  for  those  twelve  months 
had  wrought  many  changes.  Within  a  month  of  her  marriage 
her  father  had  been  honoured  and  promoted,  within  three  he  had 

159 


160  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

been  appointed  Grand  Vizier  of  the  Empire  on  account  of  his 
previous  services  and  his  great  sincerity  and  ability.  The  result 
of  this  had  been  immediately  seen  in  a  complete  readjustment  of 
the  Government.  The  campaign  in  the  Deccan  had  been  started 
afresh,  the  outlying  Amirs  had  been  called  to  order,  and  the 
rules  which  Jahangir  had  promulgated  on  his  accession  had  been 
once  more  put  in  force.  These  rules  are  curiously  far-seeing 
and  just.  Number  one  forbids  the  levying  of  any  but  Imperial 
cesses,  thus  putting  a  stop  to  extortion  by  petty  chiefs  and  land- 
holders. Number  two  provided  for  the  creation  of  State- 
managed  and  safe  rest-houses  on  all  roads  infested  by  thieves. 
Number  three  forbade  the  opening  of  bales  of  merchandise  on 
the  public  roads  without  the  leave  of  their  owners.  This  again 
was  a  side  stroke  at  imposition  by  high-placed  officials.  Another 
provided  for  the  rights  of  property  in  all,  unbelievers  or  Mussul- 
mans. Only  if  no  heirs  were  to  be  found  the  State  might  employ 
property  in  charitable  and  religious  works. 

Yet  another  was  absolute  prohibition  of  the  making  or  sale  of 
any  intoxicating  liquor  or  drugs.  Officialdom  was  further 
restricted  by  the  order  that  in  Crown  lands  no  one  was  to  inter- 
fere with  the  peasants'  right  of  cultivation. 

Finally,  the  punishment  by  cutting  off  nose  or  ears  was 
abolished,  and  the  founding  of  hospitals  in  great  cities,  with 
efficient  physicians  for  the  healing  of  the  sick,  ordained ;  the 
expenditure,  "  whatever  it  might  be,"  to  be  defrayed  by  the 
State. 

Not  bad  rules,  as  additions  to  those  made  by  his  father  Akbar. 

Last,  but  not  least,  the  young  royal  lovers  had  been  made 
happy,  to  Nurmahal's  great  and  unceasing  delight.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  intensity  and  closeness  of  the  bond  between  these  two 
gave  the  woman  who  in  both  her  marriages  had  missed  the  per- 
fection of  the  tie  a  vicarious  satisfaction.  This  was  accentuated 
by  the  fact  that  she  whole-heartedly  accepted  Prince  Khurram 
as  the  future  Emperor.  It  was  for  him,  as  for  his  father,  that 
she  laboured  to  set  things  right.  Naturally,  the  personal  feel- 
ing of  power  had  stepped  in  to  make  such  labours  easy,  but  the 
record  of  this  first  year  of  her  ascendancy  shows  that  she  used  all 
her  influence  for  good.  Two  very  womanly  ordinances  stand 


M 1 STRESS  OF  MEN  161 

out  from  the  mass  of  rules  promulgated  or  reinforced,  as  proof 
that  she  did  her  best  to  keep  Jahangir  in  the  right  religious  path. 
One  is  that  all  the  antelope  skins — and  there  were  thousands  of 
them — that  the  Emperor  shot  should  be  cured  and  given  as 
prayer-mats  to  the  various  mosques — a  quaint  imaginative  way 
of  identifying  him  with  the  devotions  of  his  subjects.  The  other 
is  the  abolition  of  the  sijdah,  or  uttermost  prostration  before 
royalty,  so  far  as  judges  were  concerned,  since  they  should  be 
considered  the  pivot  of  the  Divine  Law  that  is  above  Kings — 
another  imaginative  and  purely  feminine  idea. 

So  the  woman  who  had  given  up  the  revenge  of  destruction  for 
the  revenge  of  reconstruction  had  every  reason  to  be  proud ;  and 
yet  her  eyes,  as  they  sought  the  Emperor's,  were  dissatisfied. 

"Most  ways?"  he  echoed  reproachfully.  "Why  not  all 
ways?" 

She  was  quite  fearless  with  this  man;  she  answered  him  fair 
and  straight. 

"  Because  my  lord  hath  not  kept  to  his  promise,"  she  said. 
"  In  the  matter  of  wine,  it  is  true  that  he  seldom  takes  more 
than  the  half  of  what  he  did;  but  in  the  matter  of  drugs!" 
She  smiled,  and  her  distracting,  adorable  dimple  made  mince- 
meat of  the  Emperor's  rising  vexation.  "  Thou  dost  take  too 
much,  dear  friend,"  she  continued  affectionately.  "  It's  not 
good  for  soul  or  body ;  then  thou  goest  into  the  women's  apart- 
ments, and  they  give  thee  more." 

He  gloomed  as  he  sat  there  holding  her  hand.  "  Wouldst 
have  me  give  up  all  my  pleasures?"  he  asked  almost  pitifully. 

"  Xot  all,  my  lord,"  she  whispered  archly,  as,  deliberately 
taking  the  reins  as  it  were,  she  guided  his  hand  round  her  waist ; 
so,  with  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  looked  up  at  him  laughing. 
"  Am  I  not  a  pleasure,  my  lord?" 

He  kissed  her  passionately.  "Truly  thou  art  a  witch- 
woman,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  trembled.  "  Were  all  as  thou 
art  there  would  not  be  a  drunkard  in  the  Empire  !  But  see  you, 
Light  of  Palaces,  Queen  of  \Vomen,  'tis  hard  to  baulk  a  man  of 
sleep  when  he  hath  been  thirsty  all  day  !  And  the  slaves  give 
me  even  more  than  I  ask." 

Nurmahal's  brows  levelled  themselves  sternly.     "  That  can  I 


1 62  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

well  believe,"  she  said  dryly.  Indeed,  she  was  becoming  accus- 
tomed to  these  efforts  on  the  part  of  his  entourage  to  drug 
Jahangir  back  to  a  slavery  which  brought  others  freedom  and 
power.  "  Therefore,  my  lord,  I  have  a  plan,  and  if  my  lord 
permits  I  will  unfold  it,"  she  continued;  "  but  since  it  is  long 
to  recite,  I  will  do  it  in  proper  fashion." 

She  slipped  from  his  hold  to  the  step  of  the  divan,  took  up  a 
cithdra  that  was  lying  to  hand,  and  in  a  second  had  assumed  the 
air  and  tone  of  the  professional  story-teller. 

Jahangir  laughed  delightedly.  "  Thou  art  all  things  in  turn  ! 
Truly  a  man  can  never  have  a  dull  moment  with  such  a  com- 
panion," he  said,  little  dreaming  that  she  had  rehearsed  the 
whole  scene  beforehand,  and  was  ready  with  apt  reply  for  all 
possibilities.  So  in  a  moment  she  had  paraphrased  a  couplet  of 

Hafiz: 

"  One  good  companion  and  a  cup  of  water — 
For  these  I'd  give  the  world  and  what  comes  after." 

She  chanted  the  doggerel  with  infinite  verve,  and  went  on  to  her 
tale  in  approved  fashion. 

"  It  telleth,"  she  said,  "  of  a  jogi  and  an  infant's  toy,  of  luck 
and  misfortune,  of  life  and  death." 

So,  admirably,  losing  no  point  of  humour  or  pathos,  she  told 
the  tale  of  the  red  crystal  cup.  More  than  once  Jahangir, 
fascinated,  broke  in  with  admiration. 

"  'Tis  better  than  Alif  Latla!"  he  cried.  "  I  shall  have  to 
call  thee  Shahzadi;  but  in  truth,  as  I  said,  thou  art  all  things 
in  one." 

She  swept  him  a  mock  salaam,  and  replied  :  "The  Presence 
had  best  wait  till  this  slave  hath  finished ;  then,  mayhap,  'twill 
be  off  with  her  head  !" 

Thus  the  story  went  on.  She  spared  him  nothing,  or  herself 
either ;  though  when  she  described  how  her  dying  child,  Ali 
Kul's  child,  had  lain  in  her  arms  unbettered  by  the  magic  cup, 
her  voice  broke  a  little,  and  he,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  bent  down 
to  say,  "  Tell  me  not,  if  it  hurt  thee,  dearest." 

Finally,  with  a  laugh  she  rose  swiftly,  drew  the  little  cup 
from  her  bosom,  and  held  it  up. 

"  And  this — and  this,"  she  cried,   "  I  gift  to  my  lord  the 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  163 

Emperor — may  he  live  for  ever  !  This  much,  no  more  shall  he 
drink,  from  this  time  henceforth."  She  turned  to  him  quickly, 
sinking  to  her  knees.  "  Promise  but  this,  my  lord,  and  it  is 
thine,  my  Luck  is  thine." 

She  looked  divinely  beautiful,  her  face  all  soft  with  a  pleading 
that  came  from  her  heart;  for  those  twelve  months  of  intimate 
companionship  had  brought  into  her  life  a  new  feeling ;  the  feel- 
ing of  a  mother  for  her  wayward  son. 

Jahangir  reached  forward  and  held  the  cup  she  held ;  but  his 
eyes  were  on  her  face  in  passionate  delight. 

"  Most  beautiful  !"  he  said  almost  triumphantly,  "  Most 
beautiful,  I  promise  !  Nay,  more — this  Luck  of  thine  shall 
measure  all  my  pleasure.  All — all — all  shall  be  thine." 

"  Then  take  it,  my  lord,"  she  replied  softly,  and  stooping  to 
the  cup  laid  her  lips  to  it.  So  the  blood-reds  mingled  once 
more  ere  her  slim  fingers  loosed  their  hold,  leaving  the  crimson, 
cup  in  the  man's  hands.  He  held  it  at  arm's  length  for  a  second, 
every  atom  of  him  tingling  with  fierce  delight.  At  what  he 
scarcely  knew — at  her  beauty,  her  wit,  the  cleverness  of  the 
whole  incident,  the  entrancing  romance  of  it  all. 

"  Yea,  I  promise  !"  he  cried,  and  took  her  kiss  from  the  cup's 
lip  as  he  spoke.  Then  he  started  suddenly ;  his  eyes  took  on  a 
new  expression.  He  turned  the  cup  about  and  about,  scanning 
it  narrowly. 

"Crystal,  didst  say?"  he  exclaimed  at  last.  "Nay,  'tis  a 
ruby — before  Heaven  'tis  a  cut  ruby,  and  I  ought  to  know." 
Quick  as  lightning  his  diamond  ring  was  off  and  scoring  the  cup 
forcefully.  Not  a  sign  showed  on  the  polished  surface,  and  he 
laughed  exultantly."  Then  as  quickly  his  face  grew  grave.  "  Lo  ! 
it  is  fate,"  he  murmured ;  "all  these  long  years  I  have  sought — 
I  have  waited  for  the  gem  of  gems — and  I  have  found  both — 
in  one  !" 

"Art  sure,  my  lord?"  asked  Nurmahal  curiously.  "Is  it 
not  over  large?" 

"  The  largest  in  the  world,"  replied  Jahangir,  once  more 
exultant.  "  And  it  hath  no  flaw,  save  this  small  one  here — and 
'tis  pure  pigeon's  blood — a  gem  without  price,  without  fellow  ! 
'Tis  worth  millions." 


1 64  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

But  Nurmahal  was  silent.  Was  this,  then,  the  secret  of  the 
Luck — the  ultimate  end  of  all  things — money  ? 

"  I  wist  not  it  was  so  valuable,"  she  said  dully.  "  I  gave  it 
thee — for  luck." 

"And  it  shall  be  for  luck!"  cried  the  Emperor,  pleased 
beyond  measure — "  our  luck — not  mine  or  thine,  but  ours."  He 
clapped  his  hands  together,  and  when  the  servant  waiting  out- 
side appeared,  bid  him  go  fetch  the  Court  jeweller  and  his  scales 
without  delay ;  he  must  see  at  once  what  his  treasure  weighed. 

"  Were  it  to  weigh  the  world's  weight,"  said  Nurmahal  sud- 
denly, "  'twould  mean  no  more  to  me." 

But  Jahangir  had  thrilled  to  another  note,  and  scarcely 
listened.  So  her  brows  levelled  themselves,  her  eyes  darkened 
as  she  left  him.  Even  so,  ere  she  passed  into  seclusion,  she 
paused  to  say  : 

"  Remember  thou  hast  promised,  my  lord  !" 

He  glanced  round  quickly.  "  Yea,  yea  !  God  keep  thee, 
dearest !  I  shall  be  over  busy,  showing  this  to  the  jeweller  and 
taking  counsel  regarding  its  past,  for  more  till  to-night.  If 
aught  be  lacking,  thy  father  can  ordain  it — or  thou  thyself— 
Queen  amongst  women  ! ' ' 

She  did  not  sigh  over  his  quick  absorption  in  novelty.  She 
knew  him  too  well  for  that.  Yet  the  discovery  of  the  cup's 
value  was  unfortunate ;  but  for  that  she  could  have  impressed 
him  more  with  the  responsibility  of  his  promise.  And  there  was 
need  to  impress  it  upon  him.  At  first,  in  the  glamour  of  his 
devotion  to  her,  he  had  kept  to  her  rules;  rules  so  carefully 
made,  so  well  strengthened  by  a  thousand  and  one  wiles.  But 
of  late,  since  they  had  returned  to  Court  life  from  the  hunting 
expedition  designed  especially  to  free  the  Emperor  from  the 
temptations  of  the  old  routine,  lapses  had  occurred ;  and  they 
must  not  occur;  that  was  certain.  Her  reign  must  be  abso- 
?ute,  her  power  omnipotent ;  that  she  knew.  She  had  called  to 
her  aid  all  her  charm,  all  her  wit,  her  versatility,  her  know- 
Fedge  of  Jahangir's  emotional  nature — briefly,  his  temperament; 
and  then  the  pricelessness  of  the  cup  she  had  held  all  these 
years  as  worthless,  save  as  a  talisman,  had  stepped  in  to  cloud 
her  appeal  to  the  man's  better  self.  There  was  the  ironv  of 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  165 

fate  about  it !  That  it  should  be  a  ruby,  of  all  gems,  was  in 
itself  an  injury ;  placing  her  on  a  par,  as  it  were,  with  the  num- 
berless applicants  who  had  sought  to  curry  favour  by  pandering 
to  Jahangir's  craze  for  the  stone. 

She  felt  depressed ;  more  so  when  she  found  her  mother,  Bibi 
Azizan,  awaiting  her  in  her  own  apartments. 

The  good  lady  was  now  an  old  woman,  and  age  had  mellowed 
her  somewhat.  Besides,  her  delight  in  at  last  seeing  her  daugh- 
ter in  what  she  considered  that  daughter's  rightful  place  was 
almost  touching  in  its  whole-heartedness.  And  when  the  Em- 
peror, as  a  reward  for  her  discovery  of  the  rose  essence  (also, 
doubtless,  for  being  the  mother  of  Mihr-un-nissa  !)  presented  her 
with  a  valuable  string  of  pearls,  remarking  that  she  had  "  by  her 
ingenuity  bestowed  a  blessing  on  mankind  for  all  time  by  her 
invention  of  a  perfume  which  restored  hearts  that  had  gene,  and 
brought  back  withered  souls  with  a  scent  as  if  many  red  rosebuds 
had  opened  at  once,"  she  purely  wept  for  joy,  and  agreed  with 
the  poetess  Princess  that  it  should  be  called  "  itr  Jahdng'ry." 

Since  then  she  had  taken  to  coming  to  her  daughter  with  long 
strings  of  petty  requests,  long  tales  of  petty  intrigues,  most  of 
which  Mihr-un-nissa  set  aside,  much  to  Bibi  Azizan's  despair. 
To  what  purpose,  she  argued,  was  a  woman  the  favourite  sultana 
of  a  mighty  monarch  if  one  was  not  able  to  give  with  the  right 
hand  and  with  the  left,  too,  just  as  one  chose?  And  to  Nur- 
mahal's  gentle  reminders  that  monarchs  and  monarchs'  wives 
had  responsibilities,  she  would  reply  with  a  snort  that  such  talk 
might  do  for  her  daughter,  but  she  did  not  find  dew  a  sati.sfying 
diet ! 

On  this  day  Nurmahal  sat  patiently  enough  and  listened.  She 
even  temporized,  for  she  felt  closing  in  around  her  that  net  of 
fine-spun  conventional  estimate  of  what  a  woman  ought  to  be, 
will  be,  must  be,  from  which  all  clever  women  have  to  suffer; 
briefly,  she  knew  herself  condemned  unheard  for  all  purposes 
outside  that  conventional  estimate,  not  because  she  failed,  but 
because  she  was  a  woman. 

After  a  time  her  dressers  came  in  to  apply  cosmetics,  and 
braid  her  beautiful  hair  with  fresh  pearls  and  other  jewels.  To 
this  also  she  submitted.  This  she  had  anticipated ;  but  after 


1 66  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

her  five  years  of  freedom  from  the  necessity  for  attraction,  it 
was  more  irksome  than  she  had  reckoned  upon. 

Still,  she  could  not  forgo  it.  Her  power  over  Jahangir  was 
not  sufficiently  consolidated,  as  yet,  to  allow  her  to  neglect  any 
means  of  enhancing  it.  So,  attired  to  perfection,  the  very 
quintessence  of  beauty,  she  waited  until  the  hour  chimed  when 
Jahangir,  finished  with  his  day's  work  of  audience,  should  come 
to  her  once  more  for  rest  and  amusement. 
And  he  did  not  come. 

Even  as  she  waited,  she  gripped  the  possible  reason.     When 
an  hour  had  passed,  she  sent  for  the  Chief  Eunuch. 
"  What  ails  His  Majesty?"  she  asked. 
"He  rests,  Most  High." 
"Where?" 

"  In  his  own  apartment.  There  is  naught  wrong,  Most 
Gracious." 

"  Peace,  fool  !  I  asked  not  thine  opinion.  Slaves,  my 
veil." 

Despite  the  protestations  of  the  official,  she  stood  the  next 
minute  beside  Jahangir's  couch.  He  was  hopelessly,  blindly 
drunk,  snoring  like  a  hog. 

With  face  set  like  adamant  she  returned  to  her  apartments 
without  a  word.  She  did  not  even  think.  She  knew  that  the 
great  fight  of  her  life  lay  before  her,  that  if  she  lost  ground 
now  she  would  have  no  foothold  soon.  The  man  over  whom 
she  meant  to  have  absolute  sway  had  weakly  succumbed  to 
temptation — doubtless  to  treacherous  temptation;  that  made  it 
all  the  worse. 

"  When  the  Emperor  craves  admittance,"  she  said  briefly  to 
her  janitors,  "  tell  him  I  do  not  receive  !" 

That  night  the  whole  Palace  was  astir.  What  new  thing  was 
this? 

"  He  will  trounce  her,  doubtless,"  said  the  women  servants; 
but  the  men  looked  scared. 

So  did  the  Grand  Vizier  Ghiyass-ud-din,  the  culprit's  father, 
when,  after  an  agitated  interview  with  the  Emperor,  now  sober, 
but  sullen,  he  came  to  interview  his  daughter. 

"  I  receive  him  not,   father,"   she  said  in  reply  to  all  his 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  167 

exhortations,  "  without  an  apology.  Let  him  confess  his  fault, 
and  I  will  forgive.  Otherwise  he  hath  the  sack  and  the  bow- 
string at  his  command." 

Jahangir,  by  this  time  squirming,  face  downwards  on  his  couch, 
heard  the  answer  which  Ghiyass-ud-din,  honest  man,  had  the 
courage  to  give  in  its  entirety,  with  mingled  anger  and  anxiety. 

"  Hath  the  Emperor  of  all  the  Indies  ever  yet  confessed  him- 
self in  the  wrong?"  he  asked  plaintively,  and  Ghiyass-ud-din, 
beginning  to  realize  the  importance  of  the  struggle  in  which  his 
daughter  had  embarked,  was  forced  to  admit  that  such  a  sug- 
gestion had  never  before  entered  into  the  head  of  mortal  man — 
or  woman. 

Then  ensued  a  tragio-comedy  in  the  whole  Court;  for, 
naturally,  such  a  piece  of  gossip  could  not  be  concealed.  At 
first  absolute  incredulity  prevailed.  That  anyone,  least  of  all  a 
woman — one  raised  from  the  dust,  too,  by  the  Emperor's 
clemency,  as  the  scandalmongers,  with  their  usual  exaggeration, 
took  care  to  proclaim — should  dare  to  dictate  to  Nur-ed-din 
Mahomed  Jahangir,  monarch  of  the  whole  world,  was  prepos- 
terous, inconceivable.  Then,  as  truth  dawned,  resentment 
became  rife,  and  cabal  against  the  offender  grew.  Stern  old 
Mahomedans,  with  their  beards  dyed  black  or  red,  hinted  darkly, 
as  Nurmahal  herself  had  suggested,  at  sacks  and  bowstrings. 
The  high  Court  ladies  came  and  upbraided  their  sister  with  grave 
dereliction  from  duty.  As  for  poor  Bibi  Azizan,  she  wept  and 
moaned.  Why  could  not  her  daughter  be  content?  She  had 
more  jewels  and  more  power  than  any  other  woman  in  the  world, 
and  if  she  wanted  more,  a  woman  could  always  wheedle  any- 
thing she  liked  out  of  a  man.  And  then  in  her  despair  she  let 
out  a  secret  she  had  hitherto  guarded  jealousy — namely,  that 
though  she  herself  had  always  posed  as  a  meek,  down-trodden, 
obedient,  dutiful  wife,  she  had 'invariably  had  her  own  way  in 
everything  about  which  she  really  cared  ! 

"  That  is  no  news  to  me,  amma-fdn,"  remarked  Nurmahal  a 
trifle  bitterly.  "  The  difference  lies  here.  I  care  not  a  split 
pea  for  the  things  thou  carest  for,  and  thou  carest  not  one  for 
those  things  dear  to  me." 

And  through  the  whole  imbroglio  she  kept  her  head  calm  and 


1 68  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

collected.  She  even  sent  back  her  regal  jewels  to  the  Treasury 
and  began  once  more  on  her  broidery  frame. 

"  Thou  hadst  best  not  go  too  far,  daughter,"  said  Ghiyass- 
ud-din  warningly.  "  'Tis  three  days  now,  and  the  panders 
are  busy  devising  fresh  amusements.  There  is  a  Georgian 
beauty " 

"Thank  God  for  that,  father!"  retorted  Nurmahal  with  a 
smile.  "  She  is  welcome  to  that  side  of  him.  I  like  not 
animals,  that  are  not  true  animals,  but  men-beasts  !" 

Sitting  there,  a  perfect  vision  of  extraordinary,  captivating 
beauty,  the  man  who  had  begotten  her,  looked  at  her  helplessly. 
Vaguely  he  felt  that  what  she  said  was  true.  Here  was  woman- 
hood, even  motherhood,  without  one  touch  of  feminine  jealousy. 

Suddenly  she  softened.  "  Entreat  me  not,  father,"  she  said  ; 
"  I  must  be  firm.  Thou  knowest  not — none  know  save  he  and 
I — what  promise  passed  between  us  ere  we  wedded.  Were  I  to 
yield  now,  both  he  and  I  are  condemned  utterly.  Let  him  make 
his  choice  between  me  and  drunkenness.  He  must  acknowledge 
his  fault." 

So  she  met  even  the  pleadings  of  her  dear  old  friend  Khanzada 
Racquiya  Begum,  now  almost  an  invalid,  who  sent  for  her  and 
first  upbraided  her,  then  wept  pitifully  as  she  predicted 
Jahangir's  return  to  his  old  bad  habits.  Then  it  was  that  Mihr- 
un-nissa  set  a  trembling  lip,  and  kissing  the  old  withered  hand, 
said  almost  appealingly  :  "  I  prithee  trust  me  in  this.  Did  not 
I  launch  my  boat  upon  love's  boundless  sea?  Must  I  not  there- 
fore quit  me  hardily?" 

And  the  old  poetess,  hearing  the  familiar  words,  murmured 
their  sequence  :  "  Now  indeed,  Love  endeth  right;  dying,  thou 
gainest  Love's  best  ecstasy.  God  send  it  may  be  so,  daughter- 
ling  !" 

By  this  time  Jahangir  was  utterly  miserable.  The  Court 
functionaries  had  tried  every  form  of  distraction,  and  he  in  his 
turn  had  tried  them  all ;  but  everything  was  Dead  Sea  fruit  with- 
out that  for  which  he  had  longed  all  his  life.  Everyone  was  at 
his  or  her  wits'  end,  and  still  the  man's  pride  of  position  and 
the  pride  of  the  whole  Court  was  up  in  arms.  Yet,  when  one 
venerable  pantaloon  delicately  suggested  a  return  to  ancient 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  169 

methods  of  dealing  with  refractory  females,  the  Emperor  flew 
into  a  rage,  dismissed  him  from  Court,  took  away  his  salaries 
and  perquisites,  and  was  only  saved  from  saying,  "  Off  with  his 
head  !"  by  the  bitter  consciousness  that  he  would  make  a  fool 
of  himself  thereby. 

And  then  the  Emperor  with  his  own  hand  wrote  a  letter  to  his 
tormentor,  upbraiding  her  with  cruelty  and  sending  her  a  couplet 
he  had  written  in  his  dark  sleepless  hours  : 

"  Turn  not  thyself  away  ;  without  thee  life  is  naught. 
For  thee  to  break  my  heart — will  it  avail  thee  aught  ?" 

And  it  went  on  to  say  that  even  if  he  had  done  wrong  she  also 
was  in  the  wrong  in  demanding  that  the  Shadow  of  God  should 
lay  down  his  crown  at  her  feet. 

The  letter  was  in  itself  a  confession,  and  it  was  pathetic  in  its 
helpless,  hopeless  pride. 

Nurmahal  thought  over  it  for  a  while,  and  then  she  sent  for 
her  father ;  he  was  her  stand-by  in  all  her  difficulties. 

How  arranged,  history  says  not.  It  only  says  that  on  a  cer- 
tain dawn  Jahangir,  alone,  happened  to  be  standing  by  one  of 
the  arched  pillars  of  the  twelve-doored  marble  summer-house 
which,  after  the  fashion  of  India,  centred  the  crossed  aqueducts 
that  divided  the  garden  into  four  quarters.  The  marble  floor- 
ing, edged  by  a  low  lattice-work  of  carven  marble,  raised  him 
some  four  inches  above  the  path  outside ;  but  four  inches,  yet 
enough  for  dignity.  And  history  further  says  that  Nurmahal 
happened  to  be  walking  in  the  garden  at  dawn-time,  and  alone, 
also  that,  plucking  roses  as  she  wandered,  her  footsteps  led  her 
past  the  summer-house  but  four  inches  below  the  feet  of  the  man. 

A  fascinating  picture  this  for  the  mind's  eye.  Jahangir  wait- 
ing a-quiver  to  give  the  humble  salute  which  had  been  arranged 
was  to  presage  forgiveness ;  Nurmahal  hovering  between  laughter 
and  tears,  ready  to  respond  with  a  lowlier  one.  While  all 
around  the  rosebuds  were  bursting  and  the  birds  singing,  care- 
less of  such  trivialities  as  a  lover's  quarrel. 

And  after  all  the  programme  was  not  carried  out  according 
to  arrangement.  Jahangir,  it  is  true,  attempted  to  be  dignified, 
but  his  conventional  salute  suffered  from  his  sight  of  the  adorable 


170  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

dimple,  and  degenerated  into  one  of  supplication.  Whereupon 
Nurmahal  replaced  her  courteous  acceptation  by  an  effort  after 
the  "  Tasleem,"  or  Court  homage.  Too  late!  At  the  first 
sign  Jahangir  was  over  the  low  lattice,  and  beside  her,  raising 
her  to  his  arms. 

"  Queen  o'  Women  !     Queen  o'  Women  !" 

The  bulbuls  sang  it  to  the  roses,  and  the  roses  sent  the  per- 
fume of  love  into  the  air,  but  only  those  two  in  the  garden  knew 
what  it  really  meant. 

Later  on  in  the  day  Ghiyass-ud-din  stood  looking  at  his 
daughter  regretfully.  "  Hadst  thou  but  been  man,"  he  said, 
"  thou  wouldst  have  ruled  India  well." 

She  pursed  her  lips,  but  made  no  reply.  Even  here  she  had 
to  combat  the  belief  that  a  woman  could  do  next  to  nothing,  and 
that  in  what  she  did  do  she  must  be  actuated  by  purely  personal 
considerations. 

But  in  her  heart  of  hearts  she  knew  that  though  the  verdict  of 
her  world  might  be  to  call  her  unscrupulous,  cunning,  ambitious, 
she  had  gained  her  end,  and  meant  to  keep  it.  That  night  she 
sat  by  the  Emperor's  couch  and  told  him  stories  like  any  profes- 
sional raconteur  until  the  regulation  dose  of  drugs  given  in  the 
ruby  cup  had  its  effect,  and  he  slept. 


CHAPTER  II 

"  Lord,  if  I — sin-stained—rest  a  moment  here 
Within  Love's  cypress  shadow,  wilt  Thou  sear 
My  soul  with  vain  regrets  ?     What  matters  it 
Which  Paradise  I  choose — the  Far  or  Near?" 

"  APPLE  of  mine  eye  !  Core  of  my  heart !"  murmured  Jahangir 
fondly  to  his  three-year-old  little  granddaughter,  as  he  sat  play- 
ing with  her  in  the  Garden  of  Splendour  on  the  edge  of  the  great 
Anasagar  Lake  at  Ajmere. 

Four  years  had  passed  since  he — the  Shadow  of  God  upon 
Earth — had  apologized  to  a  woman,  and  he  had  never  regretted 
his  humility.  In  truth,  he  had  small  cause  to  do  so,  for  things 
had  gone  smoothly  since  then,  both  in  Court  and  Empire;  in 
addition,  those  four  years  of  constantly  recurring  evidence  of 
her  husband's  unbounded,  almost  unreasoning  confidence  in  and 
love  for  her,  had  brought  about  such  a  softening  of  her  woman's 
heart  that  as  Nurmahal  sat  smiling,  watching  the  man  and  the 
child  at  play  together,  she  felt  that  both  were  equally  dear  to 
her.  And  that  meant  much,  for  little  Chamni,  or  Princess  Par- 
terre, was  the  darling  of  her  relatives'  eyes.  The  first-born 
child  of  the  royal  lovers,  Khurram  and  Arjamand,  she  was  a 
perfect  flower;  or  rather,  not  a  single  blossom,  but  a  whole 
wealth  of  colour,  scent,  and  sunshine.  Hence  her  name,  given 
her  by  her  grandfather,  who  had  inherited  from  his,  that  almost 
unbalanced  love  of  beauty  which  goes  to  the  making  of  a  poet. 

Nevertheless  Nurmahal  had  discovered  in  those  four  years  of 
intimate  association  with  the  man  whose  personal  destruction  she 
had  once  vowed,  that  this  love  of  beauty  was  not  his  most  salient 
characteristic.  That,  strangely  enough  in  one  so  given  to 
ungovernable  impulse,  was  love  of  justice,  and  she  had  long 
since  acquitted  him  of  having  connived  at  Sher  Afkan's  death. 
It  had  been  an  unforeseen  consequence  of  one  of  those  uncon- 

171 


172  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

trolled  exhibitions  of  autocratic  power  which  his  entourage  com- 
mended, and  about  which  he  himself  was  of  two  opinions ;  for 
that  he  was  indeed  the  Shadow  of  God  upon  Earth  Jahangir 
never  doubted  for  a  moment.  That  conviction,  indeed,  lay  at 
the  bottom  of  his  confidence  in  Nurmahal.  She  had  the  power 
of  making  him  what  he  should  be,  more  easily  than  he  could 
make  himself;  for  he  was  extraordinarily  indolent  in  mind. 
This,  however,  may  have  been  due  to  his  health,  which  even  now 
was  but  indifferent;  he  would,  indeed,  sometimes  remark  regret- 
fully that  temperance  did  not  suit  him  so  well  as  excess,  though 
his  Empire  had  doubtless  greatly  benefited  by  the  change. 

How  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  he  would  add  with  a  smile,  ' '  when 
its  whole  fortune  was  consigned  to  the  disposal  of  so  highly 
endowed  a  family  as  his  consort's?"  Her  father,  without  a 
rival  in  arithmetic ;  without  a  competitor  in  critical  knowledge  of 
every  species  of  ancient  and  modern  poetry;  without  an  equal 
in  facility  of  quotations.  And  what  was  even  better  than  all 
this,  with  a  countenance  ever  beaming  with  smiles  and  an 
intellect  which  insured  that  every  measure  of  State  unconfirmed 
by  his  counsels  had,  by  reason  of  its  inherent  imperfections, 
small  chance  of  remaining  long  on  the  statute-book.  Then  her 
brother,  Asof  Khan  !  The  best  cook  in  the  Court,  an  excellent 
raconteur,  to  say  nothing  of  his  admirable  qualities  as 
Lieutenant-General  of  the  Imperial  Forces  under  Jahangir  him- 
self as  Generalissimo.  A  trifle  loo  stout  perhaps,  but  that  was 
doubtless  due  to  the  super-excellence  of  his  quail  curries  ! 

Finally  Nurmahal  herself.  Here  Jahangir's  lightness  would 
die  down,  and  hi's  voice  would  tremble.  "  Of  my  unreserved 
confidence  the  Princess  is  in  entire  possession.  She  is  the  incom- 
parable companion  of  all  my  cares.  I  do  not  think  anyone  is 
fonder  of  me  than  she  is." 

Not  a  bad  character,  on  the  whole.  And  it  was  a  true  one ; 
so,  as  he  played  with  little  Chamni,  he  looked  back  at  the  woman 
who  had  so  taken  possession  of  him  thirty-two  years  before,  when 
he  was  a  lad  of  sixteen,  and  said  to  her  affectionately  : 

"  Dost  think  me  foolish,  wife?  But  see  you,  she  is  our  child 
by  rights.  Khurram  is  mine,  and  Arjamand  is  thine,  and  hadst 
thou  not  gifted  thyself  at  long  last  to  me,  those  two  would  never 


MI  STRESS  OF  MEN  173 

have  come  together.  So  she  is  God's  gift  to  us  for  our  wasted 
youth." 

She  could  not  but  thrill  to  his  thought.  Yet  it  was  not  true. 
Had  they  indeed  married  in  those  old  days  they  would  have 
missed  much.  Yet  she  went  over  to  him  and  laid  her  jewelled 
hand  on  the  long  thin  fingers  with  their  one  signet  of  royalty. 

"  Mayhap,  my  lord,"  she  replied.  "  God  knows  we  could 
scarce  love  her  more  were  she  indeed  ours  ! ' ' 

Jahangir  smiled.  "  I  could  not,  for  sure.  And  thou?  What 
says  the  proverb?  '  No  woman  is  mother  till  she  be  grand- 
mother.' ' 

"  Wouldst  have  me  as  old  as  that?"  she  said  lightly. 

"  Old  !"  he  echoed.  "  Of  a  truth  I  care  not  so  that  thou  art 
thou.  And  she  is  like  thee,  I  swear — she  hath  thy  dimple." 
He  held  her  hand  close ;  but  he  clasped  the  child  closer.  Truly 
it  was  an  adorable  little  face,  but  something  in  the  absolute 
adoration  of  the  man's  expression  made  Nurmahal  say  warn- 
ingly,  "  'Tis  not  wise  to  set  thy  heart  so  strongly  on  any  mortal 
thing.  And  Khurram  may  call  her  back." 

Jahangir  shook  his  head  gaily.  "  That  is  not  likely,  with 
Arjamand  so  fruitful.  He  hath  son  and  daughter  already,  and 
God  knows  what  the  next  may  be — or  the  next — or  the  next. 
Lo  !  there  is  one  each  year  ! ' ' 

Nurmahal  smiled  back  at  him.  "  Of  a  truth  she  is  busy. 
Yet  tempt  not  the  Powers  with  love  so  lavish.  God  calls  the 
little  ones  to  Paradise  more  oft  than  he  calls  us  older  folk " 

"  Lo  !  she  is  of  heaven  already,"  interrupted  Jahangir. 
"  And,  so  that  He  call  not  thee,  I  will  be  satisfied." 

So  he  sat  playing  with  the  child.  Prince  Khurram,  coming 
in  a  little  later  to  pay  his  morning  respects  to  his  father,  found 
him  so  employed  and  seemingly  oblivious  of  his  Imperial  posi- 
tion, careless  of  all  the  magnificence  which  surrounded  him — 
the  silken  carpet  spread  on  the  ground,  the  gold  brocade  screen 
set  up  to  ward  off  the  morning  breeze,  which  on  the  Ajmere 
plateau,  3,000  feet  above  sea  level,  is  apt  to  be  chilly.  The 
pearl-embroidered  cushions  on  which  Nurmahal  reclined,  the 
posse  of  eager,  expectant  servitors  waiting  discreetly  at  a  dis- 
tance, all  seemed  forgotten  in  the  flowerful  face  of  the  little  child. 


i74  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Khurram's  usually  discontented-looking  countenance  relaxed. 
Why  it  should  be  so  grave,  so  proud,  was  somewhat  of  a  per- 
plexity. He  was  admittedly  the  Emperor's  favourite  son, 
almost  the  acknowledged  heir  apparent,  and  he  had  the  full 
favour  of  the  Emperor's  counsellors.  Then  he  had  but  just 
returned  from  a  successful  campaign  in  Rajputana,  where  he 
had  had  the  honour  and  glory  of  finally  reducing  the  Rana  of 
Udaipur  to  submission ;  a  task  which  had  hitherto  defied  the 
Imperial  troops  and  their  leaders — ay,  even  the  great  Akbar 
himself. 

This  he  had  achieved  more  by  diplomacy  than  by  force  of 
arms ;  and  he  had  come  back,  not  with  booty,  but  with  the 
Rana's  free  gifts ;  and  what  is  more,  with  his  son  Kunwar  Karan, 
who  that  very  day  was  to  make  willing  obeisance  at  the  great 
New  Year  durbar.  Thus  there  was  no  apparent  cause  for  a 
gravity  which  even  in  those  days  set  Nurmahal's  quick  wits 
awondering. 

"  She  hath  been  good  child,  I  trust,  during  her  mother's 
absence?"  he  said,  somewhat  primly,  of  his  little  daughter, 
who  by  this  time  was  lording  it  over  her  grandfather's  knee  as 
cock-horse. 

"  She  hath  been  as  the  angels  of  God,"  replied  the  Emperor 
decidedly ;  and  cuddling  the  child  he  walked  with  her  to  the 
latticed  marble  balustrade  that  overhung  the  shining  levels  of 
the  lake. 

A  marvellous  view,  this,  from  the  domed  pavilions  of  the 
Garden  of  Splendour — at  one's  feet,  rippling  lightly  against  the 
massive  stone  dam  that  hems  in  the  gathered  waters  of  the  huge 
reservoir-lake,  the  breeze-stirred  waves,  green,  pellucid,  reflect- 
ing in  quivering  light  and  shade  what  lies  above  them,  behind 
them;  the  Emperor  of  all  the  Indies  with  the  little  child  in  his 
arms ;  the  golden  screens,  the  orange  groves,  the  rose  thicket,  the 
pillared  minarets  of  the  distant  Mosque;  and,  crowning  the 
rugged,  isolated,  rose-red  hill,  the  Goatherd's  Fortress,  grim, 
inaccessible. 

Forward,  beyond  the  glittering  lake,  like  blue  tents  rising  out 
of  the  green  plain,  the  Aravali  hills. 

Curiously  peaceful,  curiously  serene,  seeing  that  for  centuries 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  175 

A j mere  had  been  the  centre  of  strife  for  the  most  warlike  nation 
in  the  world,  the  Rajput  race. 

Curiously  domestic,  curiously  simple,  considering  that  the  man 
who  stood  there,  absorbed  in  the  child,  was  the  object  of  the 
ambitions,  the  intrigues,  the  hopes,  the  fears,  of  his  whole 
world. 

The  beautiful  woman  reclining  on  the  pearl-strewn  cushions 
felt  the  strangeness  of  it  even  while  she  set  herself,  as  ever,  to 
please;  to  keep  her  hold  on  things  that  Jahangir  himself  might 
have  let  slide. 

"And  Arjamand  and  the  two  babes?  How  go  they  after 
their  fatigues?"  she  asked  in  her  full  round  voice;  for  Prince 
Khurram's  wife — to  whose  memory  he,  as  Shahjahan,  was  in 
after  years  to  raise  the  Taj  Mahal — never  left  him  in  all  his 
campaigns,  all  his  wanderings. 

For  an  instant  the  young  man's  habitually  clouded  face 
lightened  and  brightened. 

"  Well,"  he  replied — "  wondrous  well,  considering.  And  the 
lad  is  strapping  for  his  nine  months.  Yet  do  I  think  it  almost 
unwise  of  Arjamand  to  follow  the  drum  as  she  doth.  Better  she 
had  stayed  at  home,  woman-like,  under  thy  kind  protection." 

Nurmahal  laughed  a  trifle  bitterly. 

"  Yet  doth  she  her  duty  as  wife  and  mother  nobly.  And  as 
for  women  being  born  to  idle  !  So  say  all  men,  believing  not  in 
woman's  strength  and  skill,  till  we  teach  it  them.  Arjamand 
can  withstand  fatigue  better  than  thou.  Nay,  'tis  true.  To 
bear  children  as  she  doth  needs  more  endurance  than  to  win  a 
battle — but  of  that  no  more.  Since  we  be  alone,  I  would  fain 
have  thy  opinion  on  thy  father's  looks.  To  me  he  seemeth  thin 
and  colourless.  His  illness  tried  him  much.  The  change  of 
remedies — for  at  first  he  would  seek  no  counsel,  have  no 
medicine,  save  mine " 

"  This  have  I  heard  already,"  interrupted  the  Prince  dryly, 
his  dour  face  hardening. 

She  shot  a  glance  at  him  of  disdainful  defiance. 

"  Thy  newsmongers  are  worthy  of  praise,  Highness,"  she  said 
scornfully,  "  but  mine  are  better." 

And  with  that  she  leant  forward  and  whispered  something  in 


i-6  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

his  ear.      He  started,  and  the  dark  flush  flew  to  his  face  at  what 
he  thought  none  knew  but  himself  and  one  other. 

"  But  how  didst  hear?"  he  stuttered  vaguely. 

She  rose,  clapped  her  hands  for  her  attendants,  then  swept  him 
a  royal  salaam. 

"  From  thy  father-in-law,  my  brother — mayhap,"  she  said 
imperturbably,  "or  mayhap  from  my  newsmongers — but — I 
have  heard  it." 

So  saying,  she  crossed  to  where  the  Emperor  stood  to  tell  him 
it  was  time  to  be  preparing  for  the  festival,  leaving  Prince 
Khurram  to  digest  the  fact  she  wished  to  impress  upon  him — 
namely,  that  it  was  unsafe  for  him  to  count  on  secrecy  for  any 
of  his  doings. 

Half  an  hour  later,  as  she  passed  through  from  her  attiring- 
rooms  to  the  private  audience-hall  where  she  received  her  father 
and  such  high  officers  of  State  as  desired  an  interview,  Phusla 
the  Strangler,  attired  now  in  a  uniform  positively  encrusted  with 
gold,  stood  with  the  other  servants  of  the  seraglio,  his  head  bent 
over  his  breast ;  beneath,  his  joined  hands  showed  in  reverential 
salaam.  She  shot  one  look  at  him  to  see  if  the  secret  sign  that 
he  had  news  to  impart  showed  also  on  the  thin  old  hands ;  then 
swept  on,  satisfied  that  there  was  none. 

This  man,  head  of  an  organization  which  existed  all  over 
India,  was  literally  her  eyes  and  ears.  Even  her  father  won- 
dered how  she  learnt  so  much,  and  often,  as  she  sat  musing  over 
past  events,  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  the  chance  which  had  brought 
her  this  man's  devotion  was  the  greatest  piece  of  luck  in  all  her 
life.  And  it  had  come  to  her,  in  a  way,  from  the  jogi 's  cup. 
But  secrecy,  absolute  secrecy  from  all  save  Dilaram — and  as 
much  as  possible  from  her — was  the  very  essence  of  its  value. 
None  must  know  how  she  got  her  information. 

She  found  her  father  awaiting  her  in  the  audience-room,  his 
hands  full  of  papers  :  an  old  man  now,  with  a  long  white  beard, 
his  face  was  full  of  affection,  full  of  pride. 

'"  'Tis  even  as  thou  saidst,  daughter,  not  as  I  thought,"  he 
began.  "  Truly  thou  art  wise,  and  extraordinarily  knowledge- 
able. So  orders  have  been  duly  issued  in  the  case." 

He  passed  on  to  other  business,  and  she  sat  down  beside  him 


M I STRESS  <OF  MEN  177 

listening,  consulting  over  the  affairs  of  State.  Seemingly  she 
deferred  to  his  opinion,  yet  a  keen  observer  would  have  noticed 
the  skill  and  tact  with  which  she  held  command  over  her  father's 
mind  when  she  differed  from  him;  but  this  was  not  often.  For 
those  two  had  but  a  single  aim;  to  manage  the  Empire  as  it 
should  be  managed,  and  at  the  same  time  to  keep  up  the  Em- 
peror's dignity  as  Supreme  Ruler.  It  was  not  an  easy  task,  but 
it  grew  easier  as  time  went  on,  bringing  to  Jahangir  greater  and 
still  greater  trust  and  confidence. 

When  business  was  finished  she  rose  to  go,  then  hesitated,  was 
silent,  finally  spoke.  "  Father,"  she  said,  "  let  not  Asof  Khan, 
my  brother  and  your  son,  learn  too  much.  Nay,  1  mean  no 
complaint,  but  see  you,  things  are  different  for  him.  Thou  art 
heart-whole  devoted  to  the  husband  of  thy  poor  daughter  Mihr- 
un-nissa  Nurmahal  !  Wherefore  should  he  not  be  so  to  the 
husband  of  his  daughter  Arjamand?  Dost- see?  So  far  Prince 
Khurram's  interests  are  as  ours ;  but  in  the  future — God  knows  ! 
So  ignorance  is  wiser  than  knowledge." 

Ghiyass-ud-din  looked  at  his  daughter  almost  awesomely. 
"Thou  art  far-seeing,"  he  replied,  "and  the  wisdom  of  thy 
speech  is  manifest.  Yet,  saving  Asof,  whom  wilt  thou  have 
when  I  am  gone? — and  I  grow  old." 

She  took  his  hand  and  kissed  it  affectionately.  "  Not 
so  old  for  all  thy  wisdom,"  she  said  brightly.  "  And 
God  knows  I  may  meet  the  bowstring  ere  thou  meetest 
fair  death.  Nay,  seek  not  to  deny  it,  revered !  For  all 
the  peace,  all  the  power  I  possess,  I  live  in  danger  of 
my  life  from  day  to  day.  What  woman  in  my  position  doth 
not?  And  were  it  known  that  I,  and  I  only,  hold  consent  or 
denial  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand,  my  shrift  would  indeed  be 
short.  Yea,  thou,  with  thy  wisdom,  thy  accredited  power, 
standest  between  me  and  possible  death,  certain  shame,  every 
hour  of  my  life.  So  long,  that  is,  that  none  know  how  I  decide ; 
only  so  long  as  that — shake  not  thy  head,  revered  !  'Tis  so, 
and  I — woman  though  I  be — have  the  wit  to  see  it.  So  let  not 
the  cat  out  of  the  bag  even  to  Asof  !  Farewell !  All  is  arranged 
for  the  durbar,  I  trust.  The  entertainment  being  my  portion  is 
prepared — and  thou  hast  a  truly  acceptable  offering?" 


i78  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Ghiyass-ud-din  smiled  a  little  sadly.  "  Yea,"  he  replied, 
"  there  is  a  fine  ruby " 

She  interrupted  him  with  one  of  her  sudden  bitternesses. 

"  Oh  yea,  yea  !  And  Asof  hath  another,  and  Khurram,  and 
the  Khan  Khanum,  and  the  whole  string  of  you.  All  to  curry 
favour  with  one  who  counts  but  in  name — who  is  as  a  child, 
pleased  with  a  new  toy — like  the  Englishman's  coach." 

Ghiyass-ud-din  puckered  up  his  face.  These  Englishmen, 
who  had  come  on  the  first  real  accredited  embassy  from  a 
European  sovereign  to  an  Eastern  monarch — and  who  were  to  be 
formally  received  that  morning — were  no  favourites  of  his.  He 
preferred  the  Portuguese  Jesuits  who  had  hung  round  the  Court 
for  years. 

"The  Englishmen  have  nought  of  worth,"  he  began;  "I 
have  seen  their  offering,  and  'tis  contemptible." 

Nurmahal  smiled  grimly.  "  All  but  the  new  coach,  the  like  of 
which  was  never  seen.  And  novelty  ever  pleases  menfolk — ay, 
even  to  new  women." 

Her  father  held  up  his  hand  reprovingly.  "  Nay,  daughter  ! 
Thou  of  all  women  needest  not  to  say  that !" 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  without  speaking,  her  extraor- 
dinarily beautiful  face  almost  pitiful  in  its  whimsical  comprehen- 
sion. Then  she  spoke. 

"  Do  I  not  work  hard  for  such  position?"  she  said,  and  trailed 
away,  the  golden  ornaments  on  her  ankles  tinkling,  the  golden 
circlets  on  her  arms  slipping  and  clashing,  the  great  chains  of 
rubies  and  emeralds,  diamonds  and  pearls,  swaying,  swinging 
as  she  walked,  and  a  perfume  of  roses  and  orange-blossom 
emanating  from  every  fold  of  her  silken  robes,  every  plait  of 
her  glorious  hair.  Truly  a  figure  armed  at  all  points  to  ensnare, 
to  arouse  the  devotion  and  the  desire  of  man. 

An  hour  or  two  later  she  sat  behind  a  thin  screen  at  the 
jharoka,  or  window  of  audience,  watching  her  husband  Nur- 
ed-din  Mahomed  Jahangir,  Emperor  of  all  the  Indies,  Pillar 
of  Faith,  Shadow  of  God,  receive  the  felicitations  of  his  subjects 
on  this  the  tenth  New  Year  after  his  accession.  The  quaint  old 
town  was  all  hung  with  rich  draperies  garlanded  with  flowers, 
and  thronged  to  its  uttermost  with  nobles,  courtiers,  soldiers,  in 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  179 

their  gala  dresses.  On  the  roofs,  peering  women  showed  glitter- 
ing with  jewels,  and  at  each  post  of  vantage  children  of  all  sorts 
and  sizes  swarmed,  full  of  laughter,  even  the  poorest  with  a  yard 
or  so  of  bright-coloured  muslin  for  turban  or  waist-cloth.  Look- 
ing down  from  the  balconied  window  of  the  jharoka,  it  seemed 
a  parterre  of  gay  flowers ;  all  the  more  like  because  of  the  wide 
green  awnings  that  hung  midway  above  the  narrow  streets. 

The  noise  was  incessant.  Not  from  the  crowd — that  swayed 
silent,  as  an  Indian  crowd  does  to-day — but  from  the  sweetmeat- 
sellers,  the  toy-vendors,  and  the  insistent  outcries  to  make  room 
for  this,  that,  or  the  other  notable  on  his  way  to  offer  homage 
to  Kingship. 

The  balcony  and  the  wall  beneath  it  were  hung  with  gold 
brocade  looped  .by  great  ropes  of  threaded  amethysts,  turquoises, 
garnets,  and  jacinths.  The  courtyard  below  was  carpeted  with 
silken  rugs ;  and  here  two  baskets,  suspended  from  above  by 
silken  cords,  waited  in  the  charge  of  gold-encrusted  servants. 
As  each  claimant  on  the  Emperor's  regard  approached,  he  laid 
his  offering  in  one  basket,  which  was  immediately  hauled  up  on 
a  lacquered  windlass  from  above  by  no  less  a  person  than  old 
Dilaram,  now  fat  almost  to  deformity.  Its  contents  were 
promptly  laid  before  the  Emperor,  and  if  they  pleased  him,  a 
return  present  in  like  kind  came  down  by  the  other  basket;  if 
not,  the  discomfited  giver  received  his  own  again. 

This  procedure  was  for  the  jewels,  the  gold  pieces,  the  various 
bric-a-brac,  the  rich  stuffs  and  costly  curios;  the  horses, 
elephants,  tame  antelopes,  and  hunting  leopards  that  went  to 
make  up  many  of  the  giftings  being  led  past  in  strings  and 
accepted  pending  the  Emperor's  future  decision;  for  naught 
unworthy  could  be  taken  by  the  Shadow  of  God,  who  through  it 
all  sat  impassive,  irresponsive,  on  the  black  marble  stool  of 
Majesty. 

A  marvellous  stool  this,  that  followed  Kingship  everywhere; 
a  talismanic  stool  with  a  big  red  stain  as  of  blood  on  it,  showing 
how  it  had  resented  the  footstep  of  an  infidel. 
.  Once,  it  is  true,  when  his  son  Prince  Khurram,  a  tall,  martial, 
gallant  figure  in  coat-of-mail,  came  forward  leading  by  the  hand 
a  taller  one  in  the  dress  of  Rajput  chivalry,  with  bright  soft 


r8b  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

deer's  eyes  taking  in  curiously  all  the  novel  luxuries  of  the 
scene,  diplomacy  so  far  overcame  dignity  as  to  produce  a  slight 
bend  of  the  head,  a  slight  outstretching  of  the  hand  of  fel- 
lowship. 

An  immense  honour,  this,  from  the  Shadow  of  God  !  But 
Kunwar  Karan,  the  mountain-bred  Prince  of  Udaipur,  must 
have  his  reward  for  his  fealty.  And  from  behind  the  Queen- 
consort's  screen  came  a  sigh  of  content,  as  the  group,  well 
pleased,  passed  on.  So  much,  at  any  rate,  was  secure,  thanks 
to  Khurram's  good  generalship  and  better  diplomacy,  and  the 
way -was  now  open  to  a  settlement  of  the  Deccan  difficulty,  which 
had  defied  all  effort  for  so  long. 

And  now  a  murmur  from  the  crowd  of  mingled  amusement  and 
Bonder  roused  Nurmahal  to  fresh  attention. 

The  English  embassy  ! 

She  could  scarce  repress  a  smile.  Three  men  in  doublet  and 
hose,  destitute  of  flowery  robes,  looking  like  forked  radishes, 
their  heads  uncovered,  shoes  on  their  feet.  She  had  seen  the 
Hke  before,  since  the  Portuguese  came  often  to  the  Court, 
though  these,  being  for  the  most  part  priests,  did  not  disdain  the 
added  dignity  of  dress.  But  at  a  function  of  this  sort  !  Still, 
they  bore  themselves  well,  and  the  great  Queen's  eyes  criticized 
keenly,  as  she  noted  their  frank,  upstanding  attitude  of  courtesy 
without  servility. 

Yet  their  offering  ! 

Even  Sir  Thomas  Roe  himself,  writing  a  report  afterwards  of 
its  miserably  inadequate  attempt  at  barbaric  wealth  in  an 
assembly  where  six-thousand-pound  pearls  and  ten-thousand- 
pound  diamonds  were  plentiful  as  blackberries,  admitted  that  it 
had  failed,  and  that  if  his  Company  "were  furnished  yearly 
from  Francford  on  the  Maine,  where  are  all  kinds  and  rareties 
and  new  devices,  ^300  would  go  farther  than  ^300  layd  out  in 
England,  and  here  better  acceptable." 

It  was  a  complete  fiasco,  and  but  for  a  quick  whisper  from 
behind  the  screen,  reminding  the  Pillar  of 'Faith  of  a  certain 
coach  and  four,  Jahangir  might  easily  have  returned  the  petty 
offering  by  the  other  basket.  But  at  that  moment,  providentially, 
the  Ambassador  of  the  ruler  of  Iran  appeared  with  a  leash  of 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  181 

nine  European  hunting-dogs,  and  the  Emperor's  impassive  eyes 
lit  up  with  pleasure. 

It  was  a  weary  business,  lasting  for  hours  on  hours,  and  aftej 
it  was  over  the  State  procession  remained.  But  here  a  surprising 
diversion  occurred.  Just  as  the  Emperor — a  gorgeous  figure  in 
sleeveless  cloth-of-gold  coat  sashed  with  twined  chains  of  drilled 
pearls,  rubies,  and  diamonds,  his  turban  showing  the  thin  heron'^s 
plume  of  royalty,  and  hung  on  either  side  by  a  ruby  and  a 
diamond,  each  as  big  as  a  walnut,  and  centred  by  a  heart-shaped 
emerald  like  a  field  of  young  green  wheat — just  as  he  paused  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairs  for  his  esquires  to  buckle  on  his  jewelled 
sword  and  hang  his  jewelled  bow  and  arrows  over  his  shoulders, 
not  one  coach-and-four  but  two  drew  up  ! 

Sir  Thomas  Roe  looked  at  his  second  in  command  doubtfully, 

"  By  the  Lord  !"  remarked  the  latter,  "  but  they  are  clever 
counterfeiters ;  and  so  quick  too  !  'Twould  have  taken  our 
workmen  a  good  three  months  to  do  the  like." 

'Twill  not  last  like  ours,  I  warrant  me,"  said  the  third. 

True  enough ;  but  for  the  present  it  was  so  like  that  those 
three  knew  it  not  save  by  the  cover,  which  was  of  gold  Persian, 
velvet. 

Jahangir,  meanwhile,  was  delighted  beyond  measure.  Into 
the  first  coach  he  got,  preceded  by  drums  and  trumpeters,  the 
insignia  of  Empire,  and  loud  music  of  sorts,  and  flanked  by  two 
gigantic  eunuchs  carrying  huge  fly-whisks  of  long  yaks'  tails  set 
in  maces  of  pure  gold  all  patterned  with  rubies.  Behind  him 
came  nine  spare  horses  gorgeously  caparisoned,  their  furniture 
garnished,  some  with  rubies,  some  with  diamonds,  some,  again, 
with  pearls  and  emeralds.  The  State  palanquin  came  next, 
hooded  with  crimson  velvet,  fringed  a  foot  long  with  big  pearls, 
but  empty ;  for  Nurmahal,  who  had  planned  everything,  done 
everything  to  please,  sat  in  the  English  coach,  which,  nevr 
covered  and  trimmed  rich,  brought  up  the  rear  of  the  procession, 

Half  veiled,  looking  out  with  weary  eyes,  she  felt  small 
pleasure  even  in  the  success,  even  though  Jahangir  had  once 
again  told  her  that  none  in  the  wide  world  could  compare  with 
her  for  beauty  or  for  wit.  Even  the  new  title  he  had  given  her — 
Nurjahan  (Light  of  the  World)  instead  of  Nurmahal  (Light  of 


1 82  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

the  Palace)  seemed  of  small  account.  It  was  true  enough,  but 
what  did  she  herself  gain  by  it?  What  had  she  gained  in  the 
past  ?  Power,  it  is  true ;  but  power  gained  not  so  much  by  talent 
as  by  beauty.  She  felt  cribbed,  cabined,  confined  by  it;  she 
felt  that  she  could  not  be  true  to  herself.  So  the  vague  wonder 
grew  as  to  whether,  had  she  realized  at  first  the  price  she  would 
have  to  pay  for  power,  she  would  have  chosen  as  she  did.  Yet 
the  very  thought  brought  shame.  The  man  whom  she  cozened 
and  cajoled  was,  after  all,  well  worth  her  care.  So  far  as  she 
was  concerned,  she  could  have  no  quarrel  with  him.  And  the 
child  ?  This  thought  brought  immediate  joy,  and  she  settled  to 
content,  little  dreaming,  despite  her  warning  to  Jahangir  against 
making  an  idol  of  his  pet,  that  the  day  drew  nigh  when  the 
flowerful  face  would  pass  out  of  their  lives. 

"  Chamni's  hands  are  hot,  dearest,"  said  the  Emperor 
anxiously  one  morning,  and  by  afternoon  the  little  lass  lay 
languid  in  his  arms,  as  he  walked  up  and  down  the  terraced 
Garden  of  Splendour,  where  the  breeze  from  the  lake  struck  cool. 

tl  The  fever  will  pass  with  the  night,"  comforted  Nurjahan, 
calm  as  ever.  "  Fret  not,  my  heart !  I  will  give  her  medicine 
out  of  thy  ruby  cup.  It  hath  always  brought  us  luck  !" 

Had  it?  She  wondered,  even  as  she  spoke,  and  with  a  pang 
she  remembered  that  other  sick  baby  who  had  died,  despite  her 
care,  in  those  far-off  days  in  Burdwan.  Ali  Kul  had  stood 
between  her  and  grief  in  those  days ;  and  now 

But  the  fever  did  not  pass.  Old  Dilaram,  as  she  sat  nursing 
the  little  one  on  her  capacious  lap,  crooning  the  old,  old  songs 
to  it,  caring  for  it  as  even  its  mother  could  not  care,  shook  her 
head  tearfully  over  the  dazed  look  in  the  eyes  that  but  a  day 
before  had  been  so  full  of  life  and  laughter. 

"  Count  not  the  child  as  thine  till  smallpox  doth  decline,"  she 
quoted,  snivelling.  "And  they  say  it  rageth  even  now  in  the 
city." 

Nurjahan  heard,  and  quaked ;  but  she  kept  her  even  calm, 
standing  bravely  between  sorrow  and  the  man.  For  a  few  days, 
only  a  very  few  days.  On  the  fifteenth  of  June  he  had  to  face 
it.  Utterly  bewildered,  he  clung  helplessly  to  her  strength. 
Long  years  afterwards  he  writes  in  his  memoirs  :  "  I  was  greatly 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  183 

desirous  of  recording  the  event  myself,  but  my  heart  and  my 
hand  failed  me.  Whenever  I  took  up  my  pen,  my  state  became 
confused;  so  that  at  the  last  I  helplessly  ordered  I'timad-daulat 
(the  child's  great-grandfather)  to  write  it." 

And  this  is  what  he  wrote.  "  On  June  n  traces  of  fever  were 
seen  in  that  pure  daughter  of  Shah  Khurram  of  lofty  fortune, 
for  whom  His  Majesty  showed  much  affection,  and  on  the  i5th 
the  bird  of  her  soul  flew  from  her  elemental  cage  and  passed  to 
the  Garden  of  Paradise." 

They  buried  the  little  maid  close  to  the  grave  of  the  great 
Chisti  saint  in  the  Durgah,  and  flowers  of  every  sort  and  hue 
and  sweetness  covered  the  tiny  body  of  one  who  had  been  as  the 
angels  of  God.  It  sleeps  there  still  in  the  sunshine  in  the  little 
grave  that  for  long  puzzled  the  antiquarians,  but  is  now  known 
to  be  the  sole  rel.ic  of  a  tragedy  of  love  and  sorrow  in  the  life  of 
a  man  who  was  at  once  passionately  cruel  and  passionately  soft- 
hearted. 

Nurjahan  took  him  away  at  once  to  the  "  Chashma-i-Nur,"  or 
"  Fountain  of  Light,"  a  spot  amid  the  mountains  close  to 
Ajmere  which  had  hitherto  been  his  chief  delight.  But  he  hardly 
noticed  the  change,  and  would  sit  with  his  head  on  his  beloved's 
lap,  murmuring  her  name  over  and  over  again.  "  Queen  o' 
Women  !  Queen  o'  Women  !" 

Even  when,  five  days  afterwards,  the  news  came  that  the 
bereaved,  distracted  mother  had  given  birth  to  another  son,  and 
Prince  Khurram,  his  heart  wrung  as  much  by  his  father's  grief 
as  by  his  own,  suggested  that  the  new-born  should  take  the  place 
of  the  dead  darling,  he  only  shook  his  head.  When  he  returned 
to  Ajmere,  they  had  walled  up  the  palace  window  which  gave 
on  the  quarters  where  the  little  lass  had  lived,  but  months  sped 
by  and  still  the  man's  eyes  would  fill  with  tears  at  every  trivial 
thing  that  recalled  the  child. 

And  Nurjahan  watched  him  with  jealous,  apprehensive  eyes. 

"  The  Emperor  must  quit  Ajmere,"  she  said  at  length  to  her 
father.  "  His  mind  is  unhinged.  He  sleeps  not;  he  eats  not. 
Thus  must  it  be  arranged.  Khurram  hath  done  his  task  amongst 
the  Rajputs  well.  Parviz  his  brother  hath  failed  in  the  Deccan. 
He  must  be  recalled,  and  Khurram  be  given  over  the  Deccan 


1 84  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

design  under  his  father.  The  Prince  will  go  forward  with  an 
advance  guard.  The  Emperor  can  follow  at  his  leisure,  and 
can  journey  so  far  as  Mandu,  anyways.  It  hath  a  climate  more 
equable  than  this,  they  say,  and  the  road  thither  is  of  the  best 
for  the  chase.  Therefore  suggest  this — of  thyself,  I  pray  thee, 
to  my  lord — of  thyself,  remember  !  And  I  will  take  the  infant 
with  me.  By  degrees  it  may  comfort,  though  it  can  never 
replace."  She  paused  a  moment,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  rare 
tears.  "  He  would  not  wish  that  himself — his  thoughts  are  with 
her  in  Paradise." 

Of  a  truth  she  understood  this  man;  understood  the  womanly 
passion  of  his  affections  and  their  sentimentality. 


CHAPTER  III 

"  The  heart  of  man  is  as  a  marble  screen 
Behind  which  hides  His  Face  who  holds  the  mean 
'Twixt  good  and  evil.     In  that  holy  Shrine, 
Swept  by  the  winds  of  Heaven,  no  man  hath  been." 

PHUSLA  the  Strangler  sat  looking  mournfully  at  the  crimson 
Noose  of  Death.  It  lay  inert  in  his  hands,  the  hands  of  a  very 
old  man,  with  fingers  knotted  by  age.  And  yet,  suddenly,  the 
twisted  rope  of  faded  silk  shot  out  unerringly  and  looped  itself 
round  Dilaram's  pipe-bowl  as  it  stood  on  the  ground  beside  her 
frilling  petticoat. 

It  was  even  more  flouncy  than  of  yore,  seeing  that  Dilaram 
had  grown  inordinately  stout.  Phusla,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
as  inordinately  thin.  A  mere  thread-paper  of  a  pantaloon,  yet 
his  eyes  were  keen  still,  with  the  keenness  of  youth.  He  heaved 
a  faint  sigh,  dexterously  loosed  the  loop,  rolled  up  the  silken 
rope,  put  it  in  a  coil  on  the  ground  in  front  of  him  as  he  squatted, 
worshipped  it  with  appropriate  gestures  as  if  it  had  been  a  god, 
then  laid  it  tenderly  in  Dilaram's  lap. 

"To  thy  keeping,  O  revered  sister,  I  entrust  it,"  he  said 
mournfully,  "  for  'tis  not  safe  with  me  in  this  mine  own  coun- 
try." He  stretched  his  empty  hands  over  the  wide  valley  of  the 
Nerbudda  river,  which  lay  below  the  rocky  scarps  of  the  high 
central  plateau  of  India.  For  Nurjahan's  plan  had  been  car- 
ried out,  and,  after  five  months'  journeying,  the  royal  party  had 
settled  down  at  Mandu,  the  capital  of  Malwa.  A  beautiful, 
half  ruined  fortress-town  set  in  beautiful  scenery,  and  in  a  beau- 
tiful, temperate  climate. 

"  See  you,"  continued  old  Phusla,  "  I  was  born  yonder,  and 
I  learnt  my  trade  amid  the  tall  sugar-brakes,  the  thickets  of 
grass,  and  the  wide  opium-poppy  fields.  Look  !  Show  they 
not  like  the  farthing  toys  full  of  coloured  glass  chips,  the 

185 


1 86  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

children  turn  to  make  patterns  withal?  Yea,  they  are  God's 
toys,  and  they  make  men  dream  by  their  colour  as  well  as  by 
their  juice  !  To  sit  in  the  sun  and  see  the  Dream-compeller  drop 
like  innocent  milk  !  Ah,  sister,  it  maddens  the  brain  !  And  I 
sat  so  but  yesterday  when  I  went  forth  a-hunting  with  the  mis- 
tress as  usual.  Ay,  and  I  saw  others  of  the  tribe,  who  knew  me 
not,  doing  as  I — and  to-day  I  tell  thee  my  hand,  old  as  it  is, 
itches  to  be  at  work  again,  bringing  sleep.  Lo  !  I  saw  a  fat 
money-lender  as  I  came  homewards,  trotting  along  solitary  on 
his  mule,  and  'twas  all  I  could  do  to  keep  the  Noose  quiet. 
Therefore,  lest  I  bring  disgrace  upon  my  masters,  for  God's 
sake,  keep  it  safe  from  me " 

Dilaram  summoned  up  quite  an  appropriate  shudder.  "  Not 
I,"  she  replied  scornfully.  "  Take  thy  fat  red  worm  away! 
Shall  I,  governess  to  the  noble  harem  of  the  Most  Mighty, 
condescend  to  the  custody  of  a  Noose  that  hath  slain  Heaven 
knows  how  many  virtuous  men?" 

"And  women,  sister!"  put  in  Phusla  with  malevolent 
accuracy. 

Dilaram  coughed.  "Mayhap,  old  man,"  she  returned  after 
a  pause.  "  But  thy  fear  of  sin  comes  over  late  in  the  day.  What 
is  a  fowl  to  one  who  hath  swallowed  a  sheep  ?" 

Phusla  looked  at  her  with  wistful  eagerness.  "  Wouldst  have 
me  use  it,  then?"  he"  asked. 

She  laughed.  "I  said  not.  so — and  yet" — her  manner 
changed — "  I  would  for  my  mistress's  sake  it  were  round  some 
necks  I  wot  of;  but  of  that  no  more  at  present.  So,  if  thou 
art  afraid,  meanwhile,  of  this  " — she  touched  the  crimson  coil 
gingerly  with  one  fat  finger — "why  not  bury  it?" 

Phusla  shook  his  head.  "  I  should  but  dig  it  up  again,  sister; 
then  I  might  return  to  my  old  life,  and  the  mistress  would  lose 
eyes  and  ears ;  and  that  means  more  than  thou  thinkest,  woman. 
Yet  I  would  not  burn  it,  since  she  may  need  it  yet.  Therefore 
it  remains  but  that  thou  shouldst  take  custody.  Then  I  can  do 
service  with  a  heart  at  rest " 

Dilaram  snorted.  "  To  beguile  the  Most  High  with  tales  of 
tigers,  and  my  mistress  into  spoiling  her  beauty  by  exposure  to 
the  sun  and  wind  and  storms — to  say  nothing  of  mosquitoes, 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  187 

sandflies,  and  such  noxious  beasts.     I  tell  thee,  old  man,  I  am 
at  my  wits'  end  to  repair  damages " 

"  Yet  do  we  men  not  see  them,  sister,"  interposed  the 
Strangler  mildly.  "  Nurjahan  hath  charm  more  powerful  than 
these.  I  tell  thee  she  is  as  beautiful  in  hunting  dress " 

"  Traa!"  interposed  Dilaram.  "  Try  not  to  teach  an  old 
parrot !  Do  I  not  dress  her  in  leathern  doublet  like  a  man  each 
day  ?  But  there  !  the  times  are  upside  down  !  Pumpkins  sink- 
ing, millstones  floating  !  And  all  to  follow  my  lord  like  a  dutiful 
wife,  so  one  can  say  naught.  And  look  you,  fool,  I  admit  she 
is  even  more  beautiful  so." 

"If  thou  hadst  seen  her  as  I  saw  her,"  broke  in  the  old  man, 
his  eyes  aflame,  "  thou  wouldst  have  called  her  the  Great  Mother 
of  Destruction  fresh  from  Indra's  heaven.  •  Lo  !  saw  I  never  the 
like,  and  no  man  neither  !  See  you — my  men  had  tracked  four 
tigers,  and  the  Emperor's  men  marked  them  down  close  together. 
So  they  lay  and  so  they  came  out.  Two  together,  one  after- 
wards and  one  again.  And  the  mistress  was  in  the  howdah  with 
the  Lord  of  Light.  Now,  how  it  came  about  I  know  not — 
mayhap  'twas  a  game  between  those  two.  But  the  Lord  of 
Light  laughed  and,  keeping  his  hand  on  his  gun,  bade  her  fire. 
And  she  did.  First  one,  then  the  other,  were  deprived  of  life 
utterly  by  one  shot  each.  Then,  ere  there  was  time  for  gratula- 
tion,  out  came  another  tiger.  That  took  two  shots,  and  so  did 
the  tigress,  which  came  out  last.  Thus  we  were  all  amazed,  and 
she  sat  smiling  like  the  Goddess  of  Destruction  !  Yea,  yea, 
saw  I  never  the  like  in  all  my  long  life  !  The  bodies  of  four 
tigers  deprived  of  life  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  !  Until  now 
was  such  shooting  never  seen,  that  from  the  top  of  an  elephant, 
from  inside  a  howdah,  six  shots  should  be  made,  and  not  one 
miss ;  so  that  the  four  beasts  found  no  opportunity  to  spring  or 
move  !  Truly  'twas  a  marvel"* 

Dilaram  yawned.  "  And  thou  forgettest  the  best  of  the  tale, 
O  reciter  of  stale  news,"  she  said  scornfully.  "  Namely,  that 
the  Lord  of  Light  gave  her  two  emerald  bracelets  worth  a  lakh 
of  rupees,  and  scattered  1,000  gold  pieces  over  her,  as  reward." 

Phusla's  eyes  twinkled.      "  Methinks  she  was  more  pleased 
*  Fro  n  the  Memoirs. 


1 88  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

with  the  couplet  the  poet  wrote  on  't  " ;  and  straightening  him- 
self he  mouthed  : 

"  In  form  a  woman  is  fair  Nurjahun, 
Yet  slays  the  tigers  as  she  smites  the  man." 

Dilaram  frowned.  "  I  like  it  not,"  she  said;  "  it  doth  con- 
tain allusion  to  matters  best  left  alone.  My  late  master  Sher 
Afkan  (may  his  pilgrimage  be  fortunate  !)  was,  all  men  know, 
a  tiger-slayer,  but " 

"  His  wife  learnt  it  of  him,  doubtless,"  interposed  Phusla 
dryly.  "  Meanwhile,  thou  hast  the  Noose.  Keep  it,  I  pray, 
against  it  may  be  wanted.  Nay,  woman,  thou  must.  That  it 
is  urgent,  take  my  word.  If  thou  didst  understand  the  law  of 
the  Stranglers  thou  wouldst  know  naught  but  death  or  duty  parts 
them  from  the  Noose." 

And  he  got  up  masterfully,  leaving  her  staring  distastefully 
at  what  lay  in  her  lap.  Being,  however,  a  woman  of  sound  good 
sense,  she  recognized  the  loss  Phusla  would  be  to  her  mistress; 
in  addition,  she  had  quite  an  affection  for  the  gentle,  suave  old 
man.  It  would  be  a  pity  if  he  were  disembowelled  for  murder 
on  the  high  road ;  yet  the  Lord  of  Light  was  so  set  on  equal 
justice  that  he  would  not  condone  a  fault  even  in  a  faithful 
servant.  And  the  mistress  was  learning  the  trick  off  him  too — 
more  was  the  pity.  A  body  had  to  do  duty  fairly  and  squarely 
or  suffer.  So  she  tucked  the  soft  silken  coil  into  her  capacious 
bosom,  where  it  lay  comfortably  unrevealed  in  the  contours. 

Meanwhile,  in  another  part  of  the  Palace,  Nurjahan,  in  con- 
sultation with  her  father,  sat  looking  at  a  paper  with  set  lips 
and  keen  eyes. 

"Whose  was  this?"  she  asked.  "  I'll  warrant  me,  Asof's. 
Well,  I  like  it  not,  and  Prince  Khurram  must  be  instantly 
advised " 

Ghiyass-ud-din  shook  his  head.  "Too  late,  I  fear,  me, 
daughter.  No  messenger  could  reach  ere  the  deed  is  done.  And 
after  all,  'tis  not  so  important,  being  but  a  slight  matter." 

"  Slight;  yet  one  that  may  lead  to  much.  It  saps,  see  you, 
at  the  sovereignty  of  the  King,"  replied  Nurjahan.  "  Besides, 
I  like  not  to  be  outwitted  even  in  slight  matters,  and  those  who 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  189 

devised  this  thing  have,  of  intent,  left  small  time  for  amendment. 
So  a  messenger — the  swiftest — must  start  at  once." 

Again  Ghiyass-ud-din  shook  his  head.  "  The  swiftest  known 
to  me  may  be  of  no  avail.  And  even  if  it  were  important,  Prince 
Khurram  might  be  trusted.  He  is  heart-whole  loyal  to  his 
father." 

Nurjahan  paused  a  second  ere  she  answered.  "  Ay,  heart- 
whole  loyal.  Yet  is  he  a  juggler  with  words,  and  words  are  ever 
untrustworthy.  Yea,  he  is  better  diplomat  than  swordsman, 
good  as  he  is.  That  is  why  I  would  have  all  things  clear  as 
crystal.  Thou  knowest  as  well  as  I,  father,  what  this  Court  of 
ours  is  like.  There  be  those  that  favour  Khurram,  those  that 
favour  prisoned  Khushrau — would  God  his  father  would  set  him 
free  !  I  held  it  would  be  less  evil  if  the  people  saw  him ; 
prisoned  Princes  are  ever  priceless — and  there  be  those  who  even 
favour  Parviz,  who  hath  no  brains.  And  they  be  all  of  one 
mind  concerning  Nurjahan,  who  beguiles  the  Most  High  with 
witcheries."  She  clasped  her  hands  over  her  head  and  let  them 
fall  apart  with  a  gay  gesture.  "  So  be  it  !  But  even  Asof  shall 
not  lead  into  a  wrong  path  Prince  Khurram,  whom  I  favour, 
partly  because  he  is  the  best  of  the  bunch,  mostly  because  he  is 
the  very  apple  of  his  father's  eye,  his  son  of  good  fortune — and 
Jahangir — God  help  him  ! — needs  good  fortune  in  his  life.  So 
the  message  shall  be  sent — and  that  in  time." 

"  But  how?  and  by  whom?"  asked  Ghiyass-ud-din  incredu- 
lously. 

She  laughed.  "  Knowest  thou  not  by  this  time,  father, 
that  I  have  magic  at  my  command  ?  'Tis  hey  presto  !  Abra- 
cadabra !" 

"  In  truth,  daughter,"  smiled  her  father  fondly  in  return, 
"  folk  say  so.  And  thou  hast  the  knack  of  making  men  who  see 
thee  serve  thee — 'tis  thy  beauty,  doubtless  !" 

"  Ay,"  she  answered  suddenly,  petulantly,  "  'tis  my  beauty, 
doubtless.  Were  I  man,  all  could  see  me — and  all  would  serve — 
doubtless. " 

There  was  one  old  man  at  any  rate  who  was  ready  at  all  times 
of  the  day  or  night  to  do  her  service ;  so  but  a  few  minutes  later 
Phusla,  squatted  on  the  ground  in  the  servants'  quarters  before 


1 9o  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

his  earthern  firehole,  was  busy  kneading  hearth-cakes.  Not  that 
he  needed  food  ere  starting  on  his  errand,  which  was,  briefly,  to 
give  a  certain  letter  to  the  nearest  outpost  of  the  Tribe,  with 
orders  to  hand  it  on  along  the  Deccan  road  by  all  possible — and 
to  others  impossible — speed,  by  day  and  night,  through  jungle 
and  jheel,  by  field  and  forest.  It  was  over  early  hours  for 
dinner ;  but  he  needed  one  of  the  hearth-cakes  as  a  hiding-place 
for  that  same  letter ;  a  hearth  cake  with  a  big  bubble  to  it. 

So  he  went  on  kneading,  though  the  elastic  dough,  soft  and 
smooth  as  putty,  left  both  fingers  and  brass  bowl  clean,  showing 
it  was  ready  for  the  fire.  And  as  he  kneaded,  he  watched  a 
fellow-servant  who  he  felt  sure  was  watching  him ;  who  had,  he 
fancied,  been  spying  on  him  for  some  days  past.  It  was  as  well 
to  be  sure.  The  man  was  small,  slender,  dark ;  such  another  as 
Phusla  had  been  himself  at  that  age.  So  he  went  on  kneading 
until  curiosity  prevailed. 

"  Thou  art  early  at  cooking  this  morn,  0  father,"  came  the 
comment  at  last. 

Phusla  smiled  innocently.  "  'Tis  because  I  am  hurried 
to-day,  O  my  son,"  he  replied,  and  the  expected  retort  followed 
fast. 

"  Not  in  kneading,  father.  Thou  art  particular  about  thy 
dough." 

The  Strangler's  eyes  blinked  for  one  moment.  It  was  as  he 
suspected.  He  was  being  watched ;  doubtless  by  a  Bungler, 
paid  by  other  bunglers  to  do  work  he  could  not  do. 

"Particular?"  echoed  the  old  man  suavely.  "Yes,  all  are 
particular  when  they  desire  bubbles  on  their  bread ;  and  I  am 
partial  to  them." 

As  he  spoke  he  caught  up  a  lump  of  the  dough,  flapped  his 
first  cake  to  due  thinness  and  roundness  between  his  palms,  so 
with  a  dexterous  twist  laid  it,  like  a  large  wafer,  on  the  hot 
griddle  which  awaited  it.  A  second  or  two  and  the  cake  was 
ready  for  turning;  a  second  more,  and  it  was  toasting  on  edge 
before  the  glowing  embers,  and  the  heat,  acting  on  the  half- 
baked  dough,  was  raising  a  blister  which  grew  and  grew  all  over 
the  surface  of  the  round  cake,  like  a  big  bubble. 
."A  good  one  that !"  commented  Phusla  with  a  sudden  grin 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  191 

and  a  stony  stare.  "  A  body  might  hide  a  letter  inside,  and 
were  it  deftly  done  by  one  who  knows  the  trick,  none  would  be 
the  wiser." 

The  man  gave  him  a  quick  look  of  comprehension,  knew  him- 
self discovered,  and  moved  away,  discomfited,  in  haste. 

Phusla  looked  after  him,  chuckled,  and  muttered  under  his 
breath,  "  Bungler  !"  It  was  clear  that  somehow  or  another  the 
fact  that  his  mistress  was  using  him  as  messenger  had,  even  in 
that  short  space  of  time,  become  known.  How,  it  was  useless 
to  inquire.  All  treacheries  were  possible  in  that  environment. 
His  part  was  to  devise  some  other  method  of  concealment,  and 
that  quickly,  and  to  make  his  escape  from  the  palace  without  an 
instant's  delay.  Less  than  five  minutes  after,  he  started.  A 
very  keen  eye  used  to  the  trade  might  have  noticed  that  the  strip 
of  tinsel  round  the  bambu  pipe-stem  all  travellers  carry  had  been 
unwound  and  carefully  retwined  to  allow  of  a  slip  of  paper 
being  coiled  beneath  it ;  but  there  was  no  other  sign  of  a  secret 
letter. 

So  he  felt  safe.  Not  quite  so  much  so  when  he  was  stopped 
at  the  gate  of  the  Palace  by  no  less  a  person  than  Asof  Khan 
and  accused  by  him  of  being  a  Strangler ;  in  other  words,  a 
member  of  a  secret  and  outlawed  brotherhood  liable  to  instant 
death. 

"  But,"  faltered  the  Captain  of  the  Guard  almost  fearfully, 
"  he  is  servant  to  her  Highness  the  Begum." 

"  'Tis  for  that  I  arraign  him,  with  her  consent,"  replied  Asof 
haughtily.  "  Lo  !  the  Emperor  sits  even  now  in  the  Hall  of 
Audience.  Haul  him  thither;  Jahangir  will  see  justice  done." 

Phusla's  keen  eyes  blinked  again;  he  was  wondering  how 
much  they  knew ;  not  much,  unless  he  had  missed  seeing  what 
he  ought  to  have  seen ;  and  he  had  been  very  careful,  especially 
since  he  came  to  his  own  country. 

He  walked  with  the  constable  willingly,  his  mind  busy  with 
his  chances.  Nurjahan,  screened  as  usual  beside  the  Emperor's 
throne,  lost  more  composure  than  he,  as  she  saw  her  old  servitor 
in  custody.  That  her  message  was  the  cause  of  his  arrest  was 
patent;  but  on  what  count  was  he  brought  to  the  bar  of  justice? 

The  first  words  of  the  accusation  opened  her  eyes.     Truly  the 


1 92  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

old  Strangler  stood  in  danger  of  his  life,  and  she  was  power- 
less to  help.  Even  if  she  could  have  gained  Jahangir's  ear,  she 
knew  him  well  enough  to  realize  that  an  attempt  to  sway  his 
sense  of  justice  would  be  vain.  Dilaram,  however,  who  as 
governess  to  the  harem  sat  at  her  mistress's  feet,  after  craning 
forward  to  look  through  the  lattice,  glanced  back  consolingly. 

"  Fear  not  for  the  old  man,  Highness!"  she  said.  "  Lo  ! 
he  is  cunning  as  a  snake  that  ever  goes  crooked  to  its  own  hole. 
Justice  will  slip  off  him  like  a  camel  in  mud." 

And  Phusla,  in  truth,  looked  wondrous  calm  as  he  stood  before 
the  man  who  had  power  to  say  "  off  with  his  head  "  if  anything 
in  appearance  or  speech  proved  disagreeable.  But  Jahangir  was 
a  fair  judge;  on  so  much  history  is  agreed. 

"  What  hast  thou  to  say  for  thyself?"  came  the  quiet  ques- 
tion when  the  accusation  was  finished,  and  the  witness  in  chief 
(the  slender,  dark  man  who  had  but  now  watched  Phusla  making 
hearth-cakes  and  who  had  straightway  gone  to  his  employers  and 
told  them  that  the  only  way  to  prevent  some  message  being  sent 
\vas  instant  arrest)  had  given  evidence  that  on  the  previous  day, 
being  by  chance  in  a  grass  thicket  near  the  high  road,  he  had 
seen  the  accused  with  the  crimson  Noose  of  Death  ready  in  his 
hand,  watching  a  traveller  with  evil,  gloating  eyes. 

Phusla  salaamed  to  the  very  ground.  "  I  say,  Lord  of  Light, 
Protector  of  the  Poor,  that  the  witness  was  in  truth  watching  the 
traveller  himself.  That  I  watched  him,  so  that  he  had  to 
refrain,  and  that  his  story  is  retaliation.  Lo  !  Most  Just,  it  is 
a  question  of  the  Noose.  I  say  'tis  he  who  bears  it,  not  I " 

A  faint  stifled  shriek,  "  Shah-bash  !  Shah-bash  !"  came  from 
the  screened  balcony,  but  no  one  turned  to  look ;  all  were  inter- 
ested in  the  old  man's  dramatic  appeal.  "  Lo!"  he  went  on, 
"  let  the  Most  High  decide  for  himself.  He  knows  that  the 
Strangler  parts  not  from  his  Noose  till  death  parts  him  from  the 
World  !  Let  the  Pillar  of  Justice  decide  between  us.  If  I  bear 
it,  then  let  Death  be  my  portion — if  he,  let  it  be  his. ' ' 

He  was  playing  a  desperate  game,  staking  his  all  on  his 
suspicion  that  the  witness  was  a  Bungler. 

Dilaram  in  the  latticed  balcony  was  rocking  herself  backwards 
and  forwards  in  huge  delight.  "  Lo,  mistress,"  she  chuckled 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  193 

in  a  whisper,  "  said  I  not  true?  He  is  cunning  as  a  snake  ! 
See,  here  is  his  Noose  !"  She  pulled  it  out  of  her  bodice  and 
laid  the  crimson  coil  at  Nurjahan's  feet.  "  There  is  no  need 
for  fear  !  He  is  safe — he  gave  it  me  this  very  morn  for  custody. 
Truly  he  is  cunning  !" 

Meanwhile,  the  Emperor,  suddenly  interested,  had  turned  to 
the  Court  referee  to  know  if  what  the  man  said  about  the  Noose 
was  true.  The  answer  came  guarded,  careful.  Whether  the 
Strangler  parted  with  his  Noose  or  not  was  unverifiable,  such 
knowledge  belonging  to  an  unrecognized  tribal  custom;  but 
undoubtedly,  the  mere  possession  of  a  Noose  was  in  law,  proof 
of  guilt. 

"  Enough  !"  said  the  Emperor.     "  Strip  the  men  !" 

A  minute  later  an  anatomy,  naked  as  the  day  he  was  born, 
stood  before  the  assembled  courtiers,  imperturbably  calm,  a  look 
of  conscious  rectitude  on  its  wizened  face.  Beside  it  another 
figure,  also  stark,  save  for  a  crimson  girdle  round  its  loins. 

"Give  me  mine  own  again,  good  constable,"  said  Phusla 
when  the  inevitable  verdict  had  been  given,  amid  the  applause 
of  most,  and  the  ill-concealed  chagrin  of  some  of  the  spectators ; 
"  and  forget  not  my  pipe-stem,  friend,  since  I  go  on  a  journey 
without  delay." 

His  voice,  unnecessarily  distinct,  could  be  heard  in  the 
screened  balcony,  and  as  he  passed  from  the  Presence  he 
salaamed  twice,  once  to  his  Imperial  judge,  on  whose  crude  sense 
of  justice  he  had  so  easily  imposed,  and  once  to  the  woman  who 
sat  behind  the  screen,  feeling  outraged  by  that  Noose  of  Death 
that  touched  her  feet,  weary  of  this  tissue  of  machinations  neces- 
sary to  hold  her  position. 

Yet  it  was  worth  while  !  By  taking  on  herself,  through  her 
father,  all  the  cares  of  State,  Jahangir  had  been  freed  to  follow 
his  real  bent  and  to  recover  his  balance  in  the  outdoor  life  for 
which  he  was  best  suited.  Free  to  record  with  his  own  hand  in 
his  Memoirs  a  thousand  and  one  facts  concerning  such  of  God's 
creatures  as  he  met  with,  a  thousand  and  one  small  details  about 
God's  birds  and  beasts  and  plants  and  fishes — the  marvellous 
affection  of  the  big  cranes  for  their  young,  and  the  quaint  look 
of  the  four-horned  antelope,  the  "  peculiarity  of  a  bird  to  whom 


i94  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

water  is  said  to  be  poison  (though  God  knows  the  truth) ' ' ;  above 
all,  the  extraordinary  beauty  of  a  poppy-field  in  full  flower. 

And  beside  all  this  there  are  the  records  of  the  chase  !  •  One 
can  see  him,  a  tall  man  with  sad  eyes  and  a  somewhat  heavy- 
looking,  sallow  face,  the  stoop  of  coming  ill-health  in  his  broad 
shoulders,  discussing  the  number  of  animals  he  himself  had  slain 
since  he  first  began  to  hunt  at  twelve  years  old.  Eighteen 
thousand  more  or  less ;  a  goodly  total ;  or  was  it  a  bad  one  ?  He 
hardly  knew,  being  in  truth  a  man  of  two  minds,  one  cruel,  one 
soft-hearted ;  but  he  had,  at  any  rate,  done  the  world  a  good 
turn  in  "  ridding  it  of  eighty-six  noxious  tigers."  And  through 
it  all,  his  one  constant  companion  was  Nurjahan;  for,  ever  and 
always  "  the  Princess  to  whom  he  had  given  his  unreserved  con- 
fidence "  shared  his  pleasures  and  his  pains.  History  nowhere 
gives  us  an  instance  of  more  perfect  comradeship ;  and  that  very 
evening  the  heavy  face  lighted  up  into  absolute  beauty  as  he  said  : 

"  Heart  of  mine  !  Flow  I  thanked  God  that  justice  forbade 
punishment  of  thine  old  servant !  Yea,  I  will  remember  it  again 
in  my  prayers." 

For  Jahangir  had  become  very  devout.  Eight  rosaries  had  he 
of  pearls,  diamonds,  rubies,  sapphires,  emeralds,  amethysts, 
opals,  and  onyx,  and  each  held  four  hundred  beads.  So  at 
every  dawn-time  three  thousand  two  hundred  words  of  prayer 
were  said,  and  said  truly.  The  man  was  in  earnest;  yet  who 
could  say  how  much  of  his  profound  interest  in  what  he  called 
''Eternity"  was  not  due  in  the  first  instance  to  a  desire  to 
emulate  his  father's  example? 

Anyhow,  in  the  cool  of  the  evenings  in  the  old  fort  at  Mandu, 
he  held  many  a  discussion  on  religious  and  ethical  points  after 
the  manner  of  those  which  Akbar  held  at  Fatepur  Sikri.  The 
Jesuits  were  there,  in  greater  numbers  than  before,  and  the 
learned  Mahomedan  doctors  still  scowled  at  them.  The  more  so 
because  Jahangir  had  hung  a  Christus  and  a  Virgin  to  his  chaplet 
of  beads.  And  Sir  Thomas  Roe,  the  English  Ambassador, 
scowled  at  the  Portuguese  priests  also ;  but  this  was  because  they 
had  told  the  Emperor  that  England  was,  as  he  had  divined  from 
the  poverty  of  presents,  but  a  petty  State  in  Europe.  Still,  on 
the  whole  they  were  an  amicable  company,  and  circled  sedately 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  195 

round  the  Great  Secret.  Poor  Sir  Thomas  Roe,  it  is  true, 
bewailed  the  fact  that  he  found  it  impossible  ' '  to  convince  these 
heathen  that  the  Christian  faith  was  designed  for  the  whole 
earth,  and  that  theirs,  therefore,  must  be  mere  fable  and  gross 
fabrication."  He  could  see  no  sense  in  their  reply — "  that  they 
pretended  not  that  their  law  was  of  universal  application.  They 
did  not  even  say  that  his  was  a  false  religion.  It  might  be 
adapted  to  his  wants  and  circumstances,  God  in  His  mercy  having 
doubtless  appointed  many  different  ways  of  going  to  heaven." 

Such  an  answer  he  found  amusing  enough,  but  quite  idle;  a 
position  in  which  he  found  himself,  rather  to  his  dismay,  backed 
by  the  Jesuits. 

So  they  sat  on  the  silken  carpets  in  the  balconies  that  over- 
looked the  valley  of  the  Nerbudda,  while  silent  servants  glided 
about  with  comfits  and  sherbets,  which  they  ate  and  drank  as  they 
discussed  the  Humanities  and  the  Infinities.  Jahangir,  his  weak 
head  occasionally  flustered  with  a  few  glasses  of  wine,  would 
talk  misty  mysticism  of  the  Sufi  school,  the  learned  doctors 
would  prate  in  different  terms,  exactly  what  the  Jesuits  prated  of 
the  Absolute,  and  Authority,  and  Atheism,  while  Sir  Thomas 
Roe  would  put  in  his  word  for  Duty  and  Discipline,  and  the 
Devil  take  the  hindmost. 

And  more  than  once,  the  Emperor,  confused  in  his  own  con- 
ceits, would  say  :  "  Would  God,  gentlemen,  Jadrup,  the  Hindu 
saint,  were  here  !  Without  immoderate  praise  he  sets  forth 
clearly  the  doctrines  of  wholesome  Sufism,  and  from  him  can  we 
hear  many  sublime  words  of  religious  duties  and  knowledge  of 
Divine  things." 

Then  one  day,  when  this  regret  had  been  reiterated,  a  voice 
from  behind  the  screen  where,  on  these  occasions,  the  princess 
who  had  been  given  the  Emperor's  unreserved  confidence  invari- 
ably sat,  said  gently  :  "  Jadrup  is  here,  my  lord  !  Shall  I  bid 
him  enter?" 

In  a  second  Jahangir's  face  was  as  a  boy's.  "  Jadrup  !"  he 
cried.  "  Lo  !  this  is  magic  indeed  !" 

All  eyes  were  turned  to  the  figure  of  a  Hindu  ascetic  which 
showed  in  the  shadowy  archway ;  almost  a  living  skeleton,  yet 
curiously  beautiful,  like  the  figure  of  a  carven  ivory  Christ  upon 


196  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

the  Cross.  Hairless,  toothless,  clothless;  yet  all  this  forgotten 
in  the  soft  eyes,  lambent  with  a  shady  light,  that  seemed  to  see 
things  unseen  by  others.  But  the  whole  figure  seemed  athrill, 
as  it  were,  to  hear  sounds  unheard,  and  feel  things  unfelt.  It 
made  no  salutation,  this  figure  showing  light  amid  the  shadows. 
It  stood  still,  grave  with  a  soft  almost  smiling  gravity. 

"Dost  ask  of  Jadrup  what  he  thinks,  O  great  King?"  he 
said  slowly.  "  Then  dost  thou  ask  thyself,  since  all  are  One. 
Tdt  twdm  ussi.  Thou  art  that.  The  Twain  are  no  more  twain. 
All  things  am  I ;  yea  !  I  am  all  things.  Myself  within  the  heart 
smaller  than  a  grain  of  corn,  smaller  than  a  mustard  seed  ! 
Myself  within  the  heart  greater  than  the  earth,  greater  than  the 
heavens  !  Lo  !  He  who  beholds  all  beings  in  himself  and  him- 
self in  all  beings,  he  never  turns  away  from  it.  When  to  him 
who  understands,  this  Self  has  become  all  things,  what  sorrow, 
what  trouble  can  there  be  to  him  who  has  once  beheld  that  unity  ? 
He,  the  Self,  encircles  all;  bright,  incorporal,  scatheless,  pure, 
untouched  by  evil ;  wise,  omnipresent,  self -existent,  disposing  all 
things  rightly  for  eternal  years.  He,  therefore,  who  knows  this 
becomes  quiet,  subdued,  satisfied,  patient,  and  collected.  He 
sees  Self  in  Self,  sees  Self  in  all.  Free  from  evil,  free  from 
stain,  free  from  doubt,  he  becomes  True  Wisdom.  Lo  !  he  who, 
meditating  on  this  Self  in  Self,  recognizes  as  God  the  Ancient 
of  Days  who  dwells  for  ever  in  the  Abyss,  he  hath  left  joy  and 
sorrow  behind  him;  but  having  reached  true  Life,  he  rejoices 
because  he  hath  obtained  the  cause  of  rejoicing." 

The  modulated  voice,  falling  to  quiet  depths,  rising  to  still 
heights,  ceased,  and  there  was  silence.  Out  in  the  west  beyond 
the  curved  blue  veil  of  the  world,  the  vanished  sun  had  left  a 
legacy  of  light,  clear,  pellucid  as  a  golden  topaz.  There  was 
no  sound.  All  things  seemed  bound  in  an  eternal  peace. 

Jahangir  was  the  first  to  rouse  himself  from  the  half  hypnotic 
trance  in  which  the  Gosain's  words  seemed  to  have  plunged  all. 

"  Said  I  not  truth?"  he  murmured.  "  Said  I  not  he  had  the 
Secret?" 

But  the  others  woke  by  degrees  to  say  anathema.  Such  talk 
was  impious — worse,  ridiculous — since  how  could  the  Less  con- 
tain the  Greater?  So  self-satisfied,  serene,  they  pulled  Jadrup's 
words  to  pieces.  But  he  himself  had  gone,  as  he  had  come,  as 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  197 

if  by  magic ;  and  after  a  time  the  Emperor,  wearying,  gave  the 
signal  for  dismissal.  So  the  Absolute  and  the  Infinite  had  to 
play  second  fiddle  to  the  whims  of  a  man.  When  all  the  guests 
had  departed  Nurjahan  came  out  from  behind  her  screen  and 
stood  beside  Jahangir,  overlooking  the  fast  darkening  valley. 
He  stretched  his  hand  out  to  her. 

"Again,  truly,"  he  said  affectionately,  "  thou  art  witch 
indeed  !  How  didst  prevail  on  Jadrup  to  leave  his  grave  that 
he  had  dug  for  himself  and  come  hither?" 

She  smiled.  "Doth  not  my  lord  say  how,  in  calling  me  a 
witch?  By  magic,  without  doubt." 

The  nimbleness  of  her  mind  was  a  perpetual  joy  to  him. 
"  Yea  !"  he  said  softly.  "  Thou  art  the  magic  box  in  which  my 
life  lies  hid,  as  the  children  tell  in  their  fairy-tales."  And  he 
held  her  to  him  and  kissed  her  passionately.  Yet  even  so,  even 
though  he  was  very  dear  to  her,  even  though  she  spent  her  whole 
life  in  thought  for  him,  a  passionate  regret  and  remorse  that  she 
could  never  feel  as  he  did,  that  for  her  this  exaltation  of 
emotion  was  not  and  never  could  be,  rose  up  within  her.  For 
him  the  moment  was  one  of  unalloyed  content ;  he  had  forgotten 
his  world  :  she  remembered  hers. 

"I  have  news  for  your  Highness,"  she  said.  "  'Tis  from 
Khurram  !" 

"  Then  'tis  bound  to  be  good  !"  answered  Jahangir  joyously, 
a-thrill  to  his  finger-tips.  "  Lo  !  I  took  an  augury  from  the 
Diwan  of  Hafiz,  but  the  other  night,  as  to  how  the  Deccan  affair 
would  end,  and  my  blind  finger  found  the  couplet : 

"  '  The  day  of  absence  and  the  night  of  parting  from  my  friend 
Is  over,  and  fulfilment  is  the  end.' 

So,  'tis  bound  to  be  good " 

Nurjahan  smiled  as  she  might  have  at  a  child. 

"Yea,  'tis  good.     The  Deccan  is  conquered." 

He  stood  for  a  second  almost  overwhelmed.  "  Baba 
Khurram  !"  he  murmured.  "  My  fortunate  son,  Baba  Khur- 
ram !  Truly  am  I  blessed.  Truly  must  I  open  my  lips  in  thank- 
fulness before  the  throne  of  that  God  who  requires  no  return — 
for  such  a  son — for  such  a  wife  ! ' ' 

And  over  the  curved  edge  of  the  shadow  that  held  the  world 
that  lay  at  their  feet,  the  sky  still  showed  cloudless,  full  of  light. 


CHAPTER  IV 

"  '  This  world  is  but  a  bridge,'  said  Christ-Messie. 
'  Pass  o'er  in  prayer ;  build  not  ;  for  what  you  see 
Is  but  an  hour,  the  Rest  unknown.     Yet  hope. 
Who  hopes  an  hour  hopes  for  Eternity.'  " 

To  this  hour  these  words,  carven  in  red  sandstone  round  the  huge 
oblong  of  the  Door  of  Great  Height  at  Fatehpur  Sikri,  send  out 
their  message  of  transience  to  the  world.  And  on  this  January 
morn,  1619,  some  eight  years  after  Nurjahan  had  promised 
Jahangir  to  forgive  if  she  could  not  forget,  they  showed  clear-cut 
in  their  warning;  a  warning  that  was  echoed  in  every  stone  of 
the  deserted  city  of  disappointment  and  disillusionments.  For 
even  then  Fatehpur  Sikri  had  been  left  to  solitude  for  long  years. 
Its  marvellous  palaces  had  been  already  the  haunt  of  bats  and 
owls;  its  wide  streets  had  been  the  skulking-place  of  jackals 
and  hyenas,  and  its  gardens  had  been  given  over  to  the  parrots 
and  the  monkeys,  Then  suddenly  the  Court  had  decided  to  halt 
there,  for  plague  was  raging  in  the  capital,  Agra;  and  even  in 
those  days  the  danger  of  contagion  was  well  known  and  was 
avoided.  Yet,  though  but  a  score  or  so  of  miles  apart,  Fatehpur, 
perched  on  its  dry  red  ridge,  had  hitherto  been  immune  from  the 
disease;  and  so  the  fiat  had  gone  forth  that  all  things  there  were 
to  be  as  they  had  been;  and  it  was  so.  With  the  almost  incon- 
ceivable rapidity  which  comes  from  unbounded  wealth,  unlimited 
labour,  all  things  had  been  galvanized  into  fresh  life,  and  the 
empty  palaces  resounded  once  more  to  the  fulsome  flatteries  and 
secret  plottings  of  an  Eastern  Court.  The  rustle  of  silks  and 
satins,  the  glitter  of  jewels,  filled  the  wide  arcades;  while  over 
in  Agra  the  poor  were  dying  daily  in  their  thousands.  It  is  a 
strange  tale,  as  it  is  written  in  Jahangir's  own  hand  in  his  Memoirs, 
this  tale  of  how  the  plague  appeared. 

"  The  daughter  of  Asof  Khan,  the  elder,"  he  writes,  "  tells  me, 
and  insists  upon  its  truth,  that  one  day  in  the  courtyard  of  her 

198 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  199 

house  a  rat  was  observed  rising  and  falling  in  a  distracted  state. 
It  was  running  about  after  the  manner  of  drunkards,  not  knowing 
where  to  go.  She  said  to  one  of  her  girls,  '  Take  it  by  the  tail 
and  throw  it  to  the  cat.'  And  the  cat  was  delighted.  It  seized 
it,  but  instantly  dropped  it.  Then  the  cat  became  ill,  but 
recovered.  The  girl,  however,  died  next  day.  Seven  or  eight 
people  died  also,  and  so  many  were  ill  that  they  went  into  the 
garden  from  that  lodging.  In  brief,  in  the  space  of  nine  days 
seventeen  people  became  travellers  on  the  road  of  annihilation." 
To  which  succinct  account  a  contemporaneous  writer  adds: 
"  If  the  people  of  that  house  had  left  it  altogether  and  gone 
into  the  country,  they  would  have  been  saved,  but  owing  to  that 
step  not  being  taken,  the  whole  town  was  destroyed." 

Have  we  in  this  year  of  grace  1916  got  much  further  than  rats 
and  segregation  ? 

The  risk  of  infection  being  thus  clearly  recognized,  there 
were  doubtless  quarantine  stations  between  Fatehpur  and  Agra, 
thus  emphasizing  the  wide  chasm  which  yawned  between  the 
glittering  Court  and  the  dying  people. 

Yet  that  message  of  transience  and  hope  upon  Akbar's  Arch  of 
Victory  gave  on  the  wide  plain  of  the  world  and  took  no  heed  to 
high  or  low,  rich  or  poor. 

The  high  certainly  heeded  it  but  little;  for  those  four  years 
since  Prince  Khurram  had  come  back  triumphant  from  a  peaceful, 
settled  Deccan  to  receive  at  his  delighted  father's  hands  the  title 
of  Shahjahan,  or  King  of  the  world,  and  to  have  gold  coins 
showered  over  his  head  in  token  of  uttermost  appreciation,  had 
been  years  of  good  fortune  for  everybody.  Jahangir  had  re- 
covered much  of  his  mental  and  bodily  health,  the  Empire  had 
been  prosperous,  and  Nurjahan,  through  her  father,  had  managed 
all  things  well. 

For  the  most  part  the  time  had  been  spent  in  travel,  and 
everywhere  those  two — Jahangir  and  Nurjahan — had  been  fast 
companions.  In  his  Memoirs  such  words  as  the  following  are 
frequent:  "  The  roads  being  difficult,  I  ordained  that  my  mother 
and  the  other  ladies  should  remain  behind  while  I  and  Nurjahan 
Begum  went  on." 

Together  they  had  seen  the  sea  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives; 


200 

together  they  had  tempted,  and  probably  found,  sea-sickness  in 
an  open  boat;  together  they  had  viewed  many  notable  places, 
and  shot  dozens  and  dozens  of  strange  wild-fowl  and  poor  foolish 
beasts.  And  together  they  braved  sickness ;  for  Nurjahan  appears 
to  have  excelled  as  a  nurse,  and  we  hear  of  her  unremitting  care 
for  her  husband,  her  stepson,  and  her  step-grandson,  the  baby 
who  was  born  when  little  Chamani  died.  And  here  they  were 
within  an  ace,  these  two,  of  another  similar  tragedy,  but  fortu- 
nately Nurjahan's  care  and  Jahangir's  vow — which  he  kept — 
never  again  willingly  to  kill  any  of  God's  creatures,  were  successful, 
and  little  Prince  Bravery  lived  to  delight  their  hearts. 

So  we  read  how  the  Emperor  sat  on  the  howdah  a-hunting,  and 
got  Nurjahan  to  shoot  the  man-eating  tiger,  apparently  quite 
content  to  see  her  do  his  part,  so  long  as  he  was  there  to  see,  and 
enjoy,  through  her,  the  pleasure  of  the  sport. 

A  marvellous  record,  indeed,  of  absolute  self-effacement. 
How  many  lovers  would  be  capable  of  it  ? 

We  read  also  of  how  Nurjahan  herself  fell  sick,  and  the 
physicians  confessed  their  helplessness  in  treating  her,  until  by 
the  aid  of  God — Glory  be  to  His  Name  ! — a  new  one  found  a  new 
remedy,  and  in  a  short  time  she  quite  recovered;  whereupon,  as 
a  reward  for  this  most  excellent  service,  this  fortunate  one  was 
given  three  villages  in  his  native  country,  and  a  fee  of  his  own 
weight  in  silver,  which  panned  out  at  some  twelve  stone. 

For  Jahangir  had  been  anxious;  how  anxious  only  Nurjahan 
knew. 

But  the  anxiety  was  over.  This  very  day  she  was  to  give  a 
feast  to  celebrate  her  complete  convalescence.  Yet  as  she  waited 
in  the  alcove  of  Akbar's  palace,  surrounded  by  every  luxury 
that  unlimited  love  could  shower  upon  her — waited  with  the 
certainty  that  her  husband's  morning  visit  would  surely  bring 
her  fresh  proof  of  his  unreserved  confidence — she  knew  that  but 
for  him  and  her  father  she  had  not  a  true  friend  in  the  whole 
Court;  not  a  friend  more  true  to  her  interests  than  to  his 
own. 

Shahjahan  ?  Yes,  so  far  as  their  views  were  identical  he 
would  march  with  her,  but  beyond  ?  She  did  not  know.  Asof, 
her  brother  ?  She  had  never  trusted  him.  Mohabat  Khan,  the 


201 

best  General  of  his  time  ?     He  was  as  the  others — obsequious 
to  her  face,  envious  of  her  power,  scornful  of  her  sex. 

There  was  Fedai  Khan,  of  course  !  She  smiled  as  she  thought 
of  him,  the  tempter,  who  had  been  set  to  conquer,  and  had  re- 
mained to  serve.  The  curled  darling  of  the  Court,  whom  no 
woman  could  resist,  who,  therefore,  might  be  a  means  of  bringing 
a  woman  into  conspiracy's  power;  for  there  was  scarcely  one 
net  which  had  not  been  spread  for  her  feet.  Fedai  Khan,  "  the 
Prince  of  Devoted  Servants,"  who  had  been  given  the  title  by  her 
husband  for  his  faithful  devotion  to  one  "  beautiful  as  she  was 
good,  good  as  she  was  beautiful !" 

No  wonder  the  Court  was  against  her,  no  wonder  it  was  hard 
for  mortal  man  of  those  times  to  realize  that  the  tie  which  held 
Jahangir  absorbed  in  Nurjahan  was  not  a  sensual,  but  a  spiritual 
one.  It  would  have  been  hard  even  in  these  days  to  realize  that 
a  woman,  still  possessed  of  every  feminine  allurement,  should 
have  left  sex  behind  her.  But  she  had.  She  was  close  on  fifty 
years  of  age.  Never  in  the  heyday  of  her  youth  had  the  things 
of  sense  had  much  appeal  for  her,  and  through  all  her  long  and 
varied  life  there  never  was  a  whisper  against  her  chastity.  A 
curious  record  for  an  Eastern  beauty,  and  one  of  beauty  so  in- 
comparable. But  her  whole  existence  was  one  long  marvel. 

So  as  she  lay  amongst  the  embroidered  -pillows,  awaiting 
Jahangir's  gratulations  on  this  her  Feast  of  Health,  she  was 
half  weary  of  her  power,  half  exultant  over  it. 

He  came  at  last,  tall,  not  so  stout  as  he  had  been,  his  hair 
beginning  to  be  sprinkled  with  silver,  his  broad  chest  hollowed  a 
bit  with  threatened  asthma,  his  heavy  face  alight  at  the  sight 
of  her. 

What  did  they  say  to  each  other  ?  It  is  hard  even  to  imagine; 
they  were  so  different  in  all  ways.  Perhaps  they  said  nothing 
save  of  how  Prince  Bravery  had  learnt  a  whole  chapter  of  the 
Koran,  and  how  the  big  cranes  had  actually  hatched  both  their 
eggs.  For  Jahangir's  life,  judged  by  his  Memoirs,  was  made  up 
of  such  trifling  things.  That,  the  receiving  of  rubies,  the  bestow- 
ing of  robes  and  honours,  mixed  up  with  a  gentle  hankering  after 
eternal  values,  seem  to  have  filled  up  his  days.  There  are  no 
more  outbursts  of  senseless  passion,  no  more  cruelties,  or  over- 


202  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

bearing  judgments.  Even  in  the  business  of  accepting  presents 
a  change  had  come  over  the  Emperor's  manner.  "  On  Thursday, 
the  4th/'  he  writes,  "  the  offerings  of  Mukarrab  Khan  were 
laid  before  me.  There  was  nothing  rare  on  them,  nor  anything 
to  which  my  fancy  turned,  and  so  I  felt  ashamed.  Finally  I 
gave  them  to  the  children  to  take  into  the  harem." 

Ay,  he  had  changed,  and  like  a  flash  it  came  home  to  the 
woman  who  had  bound  herself  to  him  out  of  a  desire  for  revenge 
that  she  was  changed  also.  Where  was  her  revenge  now  ?  It 
was  lost.  She  had  forgotten  it  absolutely  in  her  care  for  this 
man's  welfare;  this  man  who  was  as  a  child  in  her  hands. 

And  this  January  morning  he  was  even  more  childlike  than 
usual,  for  he  was  primed  with  a  great  secret  of  his  own  devising, 
a  secret  present  ! 

"  Thou  canst  not  guess  what  'tis,"  he  said  joyously.  "  By 
all  the  twelve  Imams  !  how  oft  have  I  not  been  tempted  to  ask 
thy  advice,  and  so  stultify  myself !  But  'tis  done — ay,  well 
done  also  !  Fedai !"  he  called,  "  bid  the  Master  of  the  Mint 
bring  what  he  hath  made,  and  make  thy  respects  to  Her  Majesty 
on  this  her  Health  Day — thou  hast  my  permission." 

The  figure  which  in  answer  to  the  call  stood  with  lowered 
eyes  beyond  the  draped  curtain  was  one  to  gladden  the  eye. 
From  the  sole  of  its  buckskinned  feet  to  the  tip  of  its  turban's 
tassel  it  was  perfect,  simply  irresistible;  and  a  slow,  kindly  smile 
spread  over  the  royal  faces  as  they  watched  the  superb  salaam 
that  sent,  as  it  should  do  for  perfection,  just  the  faintest  perfume 
of  musk  into  the  air. 

"  Majesty  hath  more  than  my  respect,"  said  the  young  man 
mellifluously.  "  She  hath  all  God  hath  given  to  Hidayat-ullah, 
so  called  Fedai  Khan  !  Most  Merciful,  the  Master  of  the  Mint 
presents  his  work  !" 

A  minute  later  Nurjahan  was  looking  with  startled,  almost 
incredulous  eyes  from  a  gold  coin  that  lay  in  her  palm  to  the  face 
of  the  man  who,  with  a  wave  of  his  despotic  hand,  had  dismissed 
even  perfection,  and  was  looking  at  her  as  the  lad  Salim  had  looked 
at  the  girl  Mihr-un-nissa  in  the  Gold-Scattering  Garden  long  years 
before.  She  did  not  love  him  even  now,  and  yet  the  look  thrilled 
her. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  203 

'Tis  like  thee,  is  it  not,  wife  ?"  said  the  man.  "  Lo  !  I  had 
it  done  ten  times  ere  I  was  satisfied.  But  now  " — his  voice 
trembled  with  his  emotion — "  now  am  I  quite  content."  And 
he  bent  over  and  kissed  the  hand  that  held  the  coin. 

A  few  of  that  minting  remain  to  this  day.  They  show  a 
woman's  face  superimposed  upon  a  man's,  with  the  legend: 
"  This  coin  obtains  a  hundred  values  from  the  face  of  Nurjahan 
Padshah  Begum  !"  So  much  he  who  runs  may  read;  but  it  needs 
imagination  to  realize  the  meaning  of  it  in  the  year  of  grace  16.19 
in  an  Oriental  country.  Even  Nurjahan  herself  was  taken 
aback  by  seeing  facts  thus  pictorically  presented.  But  Jahangir 
was  too  full  of  his  idea  to  face  practicalities. 

"  Lo  !"  he  continued,  "  now  may  God  send  what  He  will — 
for  see  you,  I  grow  old — past  fifty  now.  Yet  if  the  Call  comes  I 
leave  Majesty  behind  me.  Yea,  the  verse  is  true: 

"  '  If  thou  remain'st  though  I  am  not,  'tis  well. 
Life's  feast  be  thine,  for  me  the  funeral  knell ! 
Death  comes  to  all.  I  reck  not  when  or  how, 
So  that  men  say,  "At  her  dear  feet  he  fell."  '  " 

There  was  silence,  and  tears  clouded  her  clear  sight  for  a 
space.  Then  with  an  effort  she  smiled,  and  said  lightly:  "  My 
Lord  hath  altered  the  verse — 'tis  better  than  Nizami's." 

She  spoke  almost  at  random,  urged  thereto  by  desire  not  to 
break  down,  to  get  back  somehow  to  the  commonplace.  And 
she  succeeded;  Jahangir,  easily  diverted  even  from  his  emotions, 
laughed  self-consciously.  "  Yea,  dearest,"  he  replied.  "  There 
is  in  me  somewhat  of  a  poet.  Thou  art  happier  in  versification 
than  I,  but  I  have  the  better  judgment,  methinks.  'Twas  I, 
remember,  that  was  amazed  at  the  quatrain  of  someone  we  found 
engraved  on  the  stone  at  By  ana,  by  the  drinking-fountain. 
Truth,  'tis  a  fine  verse,  whoever  wrote  it." 

And  he  quoted,  and  quoted  well: 

"  '  For  some  we  loved,  the  Loveliest  and  the  Best 
That  from  his  vintage  rolling  Time  have  prest, 
Have  drunk  their  Cup  a  Round  or  two  before, 
And  one  by  one  crept  silently  to  Rest.'  " 

The  words,  quaintly  unknswn,  pleased  mind  and  body;  he  was 
out  of  the  depths  and  afloat  once  more  on  the  easy  curfent 
of  life. 


204  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

And  Nurjahan  was  relieved.  She  wanted  time  to  think,  and 
after  he  had  left  her  she  sat  looking  out  on  her  world  with  her 
usual  calmness;  but  the  tears  seemed  there,  still  clouding  her 
clear  sight. 

Not  for  long,  howeVer.  Within  an  hour,  seated  behind  the 
jarokha  in  the  Audience  Hall,  she  was  watching  the  effect  which 
Jahangir's  new  coin  had  upon  the  Court.  Never  before  had  she 
fully  realized  her  crime  in  being  a  woman.  Never  before  had 
she  grasped  thoroughly  the  fact  that  she  lived  solely  by  reason 
of  the  beauty  which  had  captivated  a  King.  Yet  not  one  word 
of  dissent  was  spoken;  nothing  but  fulsome  flattery,  nothing 
but  artificial  acquiescence.  Therein  lay  the  sting  of  it.  With 
all  her  power  she  was  but  a  puppet  in  the  hand  of  the  Emperor 
of  all  the  Indies. 

Had  she  heard  the  comments  which  passed  from  lip  to  lip 
when  the  audience  was  over,  she  could  not  have  felt  the  wound 
of  her  friendlessness  more  acutely.  Yet  as  the  company  drifted 
away,  comment  rose  rife. 

"  "Tis  the  cursed  beauty  of  her  that  hath  bewitched  the  Most 
High,"  said  one,  concentrating  the  criticism  of  his  group,  "  and 
she  hath  so  many  charms  there  is  no  trapping  her  !  Would  to 
God  she  were  in  Agra,  to  die  of  the  plague  !" 

"  Folk  die  of  it  in  other  places  beside  Agra,"  suggested  a  sallow- 
faced  man,  as  the  knot  drifted  away  discussing  the  outrage — 
discussing,  mayhap,  some  fresh  idea  of  conspiracy. 

Shahjahan,  however,  with  his  father-in-law  and  counsellor 
Asof  Khan,  who  went  with  him  everywhere,  strolled  moodily  and 
silently  to  his  grandfather's  Arch  of  Victory.  It  was  a  spot  he 
liked;  one  that  suited  the  idea  of  Empire  which  had  obsessed  him, 
since,  as  a  boy  of  twelve,  he  had  seen  that  grandfather  hesitate 
in  his  choice  of  an  heir.  Possibly  the  boy — he  had  been  Akbar's 
favourite  grandson — dreamt  dreams  even  then,  and  was  dis- 
appointed in  immediate  realization.  Certain  it  is  that  he  never 
wavered  in  his  determination  to  succeed  his  father  on  the  throne 
of  India.  It  was  the  secret  of  his  loyalty,  the  essence  of  every 
action  of  his  life.  And  so  far  he  had  succeeded.  At  twenty- 
seven  years  of  age  he  was  Jahangir's  son  of  lofty  fortune,  his 
prosperous  and  noble  son,  the  star  in  his  forehead  of  accom- 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  205 

plished  desires,  the  brilliancy  of  the  brow  of  prosperity.  He  was 
all  that,  and  yet,  as  he  stood  looking  out  over  the  plains  of  India, 
he  asked  himself  what  security  had  he  that  his  father  might  not 
in  the  end  revert,  on  his  deathbed,  to  the  claims  of  seniority  as 
his  grandfather  had  done  ?  It  was  a  maxim  in  the  Timurian 
family  that,  while  the  eldest  born  still  lived,  the  monarchy 
must  never  pass  to  a  junior.  That  was  the  secret  of  his  grand- 
father's vacillation. 

And  his  elder  brother  Khushrau  still  lived.  Nay,  more;  there 
was  not  wanting  a  cabal  to  end  his  imprisonment.  The  hell- 
doomed  infidel  Gosain  Jadrup,  to  whose  opinion  the  Emperor 
was  over  inclined,  favoured  it.  And  Nurjahan  also  !  Was  it 
only  woman's  pity  for  a  man  wasting  his  youth  in  captivity  ? 
Or  was  there  in  it  something  malign  ? 

Suspicious  by  nature,  silent,  proud,  loved  but  by  few,  feared 
by  all,  Shahjahan  felt  that  this  new  whim  of  his  father's  was 
dangerous.  He  had  said  that  he  would  leave  Majesty  behind 
him.  It  was  one  of  his  many  conceits,  and  probably  meant 
nothing.  But  if  it  meant  a  woman 

"  The  Begum  hath  invited  Prince  Khushrau  to  her  entertain- 
ment this  evening,  and  Majesty  hath  consented.  Is't  the  thin 
end  of  the  wedge  to  perfect  freedom,  think  you  ?"  suggested 
Asof  Khan  half  craftily;  but,  in  truth,  working  as  he  did  ever  for 
his  daughter  and  not  for  his  sister,  he  was  genuinely  alarmed  at 
the  new  turn  of  affairs. 

Shahjahan  swore  a  good  round  oath.  "  Would  to  God," 
he  exclaimed,  "  that  he  would  die  of  the  plague  !  'Twould 
make  things  clearer." 

So  in  the  streets  and  alleys  of  the  red  sandstone  city,  so  lately 
tenanted  only  by  the  innocent  birds  and  beasts,  man  walked 
up  and  down,  dealing  death  by  the  Great  Scourge  as  a  remedy 
for  their  trivial  jealousies;  while  but  a  few  miles  away  in  Agra 
Fate  was  meting  it  out  lavishly  on  the  just  and  the  unjust. 

But  perhaps  Nurjahan  alone  of  all  the  dwellers  in  the  City  of 
Shelter  and  Victory  felt  the  Shadow  of  Tragedy  looming  ahead. 
She  sat  in  hurried  counsel  with  her  father,  her  chin  resting  on 
her  knees  above  her  clasped  hands,  her  lips  set  fast,  her  eyes 
keen,  looking  out  beyond  the  old  face  that  showed  so  kindly, 


206  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

the  old  mind  that  palavered  so  adroitly  of  wisdom,  and  beyond 
the  walls  Akbar  had  reared,  out  to  the  future  of  which  neither  he 
nor  she  could  tell  anything. 

"  I  like  it  not/'  she  said  suddenly.  "  'Tis  a  parting  of  the 
ways;  yet  will  I  take  it  without  fear.  Lo  !  the  remembrance  of 
my  lord's  great  goodness  should  be  a  light  to  my  path  !" 

The  old  man's  wisdom  flickered.  "  And  when  the  light  is 
quenched  ?"  he  asked  querulously,  the  suggestion  falling  as  it 
were  distastefully  from  his  lips. 

She  threw  her  head  back  suddenly  and  laughed.  "  It  will  be 
darkness,"  she  replied  lightly,  "  yet  mayhap  darkness  may  be 
more  peaceful  than  this  day  of  deceits  and  dangers.  But  till 
then  " — her  henna-stained  fingers  closed  tightly  on  her  henna- 
stained  palm — "  I  hold — all !" 

Small  wonder  if  she  did,  for  if  ever  woman  had  the  will  and  the 
power  to  be  all  things,  to  do  all  things,  it  was  Nurjahan  Padshah 
Begum.  She  never  hesitated  about  money;  Jahangir  had  from 
time  to  time  gifted  her  almost  with  provinces.  Their  revenues 
were  well  spent  in  maintenance,  but  the  surplus  she  lavished 
like  water  in  giving  pleasure  to  the  man  she  had  monopolized. 
Twenty  thousand  pounds  on  a  jewelled  robe  for  Shahjahan, 
in  order  to  win  a  smile  from  his  adoring  father:  thirty  thousand 
to  enable  her  father's  yearly  offering  to  be,  as  it  ever  was,  the 
best  of  the  bunch.  And  only  this  January  evening  fabulous  sums 
had  been  spent  on  the  entertainment  she  was  giving  in  a  garden 
a  few  miles  out  from  Fatehpur.  And  if  Jahangir  had  been 
secret  over  his  new  coin,  Nurjahan  had  been  trebly  so  over  her 
preparations.  None  knew  what  novelty  was  brewing. 

It  was  January,  even  in  Hindustan  mid- winter.  Fully  one  half 
of  the  trees  in  Northern  India  at  this  season  have  shed  their 
leaves,  and  all  are  equally  bare  of  flower  or  fruit.  Scarcely  a 
season,  therefore,  for  what  is  nowadays  called  a  garden-party. 

But  money  can  do  most  things  in  a  land  where  there  are  millions 
of  men — many  of  them  skilled  artificers — at  command. 

So  as,  descending  from  the  Imperial  dhooli,  Jahangir  walked 
through  the  tunnelled  archway  of  the  gate  into  the  garden,  he 
rounded  up  sharply  in  sheer  astonishment. 

For   the   scene    was    summer !     High    summer-tide !     Every 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  207 

tree  had  burst  into  leaf  and  flower  and  fruit.,  every  rose-bush 
was  covered  with  blossom.  The  white  gardenia  scented  the  air, 
the  scarlet  of  the  pomegranate  bells  dazzled  the  eyes,  a  d  amongst 
the  burnished  foliage  of  the  orange  groves  hung  golden  globes 
side  by  side  with  waxen  perfumed  flowers.  Dark  green  velvet 
starred  with  innumerable  blossoms  covered  the  ground,  and  in 
the  moonlight  showed  like  softest  sod,  while  from  every  tree 
rose  the  song  of  birds.  In  the  cool  shallows  of  the  marble  water- 
courses goldfish  darted  hither  and  thither,  and  the  fountains, 
lit  by  many-coloured  lights  into  iridescent  colours,  fell  in  spray 
upon  huge  lotus  blossoms,  white,  pink,  red.  In  the  central 
four-square  of  the  garden  stood  a  huge  golden  cage,  spired  and 
domed,  that  rose  high  out  of  long  lines  and  festoons  of  soft 
twinkling  lamps — so  high,  it  seemed  to  touch  the  very  sky. 

For  one  instant  the  Emperor  stood  confused;  then  reached, 
as  if  in  doubt,  to  touch  a  flowering  peach-branch  that  swept 
above  his  head.  As  he  did  so  a  well-known  voice  said  in  his  ear: 

"  Why  risk  a  touch  when  sight  says  nothing  lacks? 
In  a  king's  hand  the  whole  world  is  as  wax  !" 

He  turned  in  a  flash  of  recognition  to  catch  a  mere  glimpse  of 
a  close-veiled  figure  slipping  away  through  the  crowd  of  courtiers 
behind  him;  courtiers  who  for  the  time  were  forgetting  con- 
spiracy in  amazement. 

The  quip — one  of  many,  for  Nurjahan's  talent  for  such  jeu 
d'esprit  was  one  of  her  many  attractions — put  the  coping-stone 
to  the  Emperor's  delight. 

"  Witch  !"  he  murmured  to  himself  in  a  full  flood  of  amusement 
and  admiration. 

A  minute  or  two  afterwards,  as  he  entered  the  golden  cage, 
however,  both  increased — if  that  were  possible — by  finding  the 
witch  ready  to  receive  him,  dressed  as  a  peacock  !  He  sank 
into  the  cushions  beside  her  and  laughed  till  his  sides  ached 
again. 

"  Thou  hast  no  right  to  that,  sweetheart,  being  female,"  he 
said,  touching  her  jewelled  feathery  train  that  swept  away, 
and  away,  and  away  behind  her. 

She  replied  with  perfect  gravity.     "  Has  not  my  lord  heard 


208  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

the  tale  of  the  peacock,  who  gave  his  tail  to  the  pea-hen  ?"  she 
asked  demurely,  and  then  set  out  to  relate  it  in  her  best  style. 
Yet  all  the  while  the  Shadow  of  Tragedy  was  in  her  heart. 

For  all  that  the  fun  waxed  fast  and  furious,  as  it  did  ever  on 
such  occasions.  A  gorgeous  repast  was  served  under  the  green 
velvet  canopies  and  in  the  golden  cage,  whither  came,  by  invita- 
tion, the  few  who  were  .privileged  to  see  the  ladies;  amongst 
these,  of  course,  the  Grand  Vizier  Ghiyass-ud-din,  who  naturally, 
as  Nurjahan's  right  hand,  had  been  in  the  secret  of  the  Garden 
of  Magic  Summer. 

"  All  hath  gone  well,  daughter,"  he  said  doubtfully,  as — for 
a  moment  off  her  guard — her  weariness  of  look  struck  him. 

"  Ay  !"  she  assented  coldly.  "  There  remains  but  the  enter- 
tainments, and  they  are  good." 

And  they  were.  Jahangir  has  given  us  his  estimate  of  the 
juggling  in  his  Memoirs.  "  Never  did  I  see  or  hear  of  anything 
in  execution  so  wonderfully  strange  as  was  exhibited  with  ap- 
parent facility  by  these  seven  conjurors.  In  truth,  though  we 
bestow  on  these  performances  the  character  of  a  trick,  they  very 
evidently  partake  of  the  nature  of  something  beyond  the  exertion 
of  human  energy.  It  seems,  indeed,  that  there  exists  in  some  men 
a  peculiar  and  essential  faculty  which  enables  them  to  accom- 
plish things  far  beyond  the  ordinary  scope  of  human  exertion, 
and  frequently  to  baffle  the  utmost  subtlety  of  the  understanding. 
I  dismissed  them  finally  with  a  donation  of  fifty  thousand  rupees, 
and  the  intimation  that  all  the  amirs  of  my  Court,  from  the 
order  of  one  thousand  rupees  salary  and  upwards,  should  each 
and  all  contribute  something  in  due  proportion." 

A  quaint  admixture  of  speculation  and  finance,  rery  satis- 
factory to  the  jugglers  ! 

So  the  hours  slipped  by.  The  water-clock  at  the  arched  gate- 
way counted  them  drop  by  drop,  and  the  old  wizened  anatomy 
of  a  man  who  stood  in  charge  of  the  gong  beat  them  out  in  mellow, 
hollow  notes.  For  the  measure  of  the  day  and  night  was  almost 
a  sacred  duty  in  the  Mogul  Court,  where  the  monarch  learnt  not 
to  "  surrender  more  than  two  or  three  of  these  coins  of  time  to 
the  plundering  of  sleep,"  but  to  be  "  wakeful,  because  a  lasting 
slumber  lies  ahead  of  all." 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  209 

So  one  by  one  the  record  of  them  quivered  through  the  moon- 
lit, lamp-lit  air  among  the  waxen  flowers  and  fruits,  among  the 
singing  birds  deftly  concealed  in  cages  amid  the  foliage,  among 
the  smiling,  flattering  courtiers. 

It  was  a  world  of  pretence,  indeed,  and  one  weary  woman, 
even  in  the  height  of  her  success,  longed  to  be  far  from  it.  Twelve 
o'clock  !  She  counted  the  strokes  even  as  she  uttered  one  of  her 
smartest,  wittiest  repartees. 

"  What  new  device  is  this  ?"  asked  Jahangir  delightedly,  as 
up  the  central  green  velvet  path  one  of  the  royal  dhoolis  came 
swinging,  borne  by  four  men. 

'  'Twill  be  the  new  singer  from  Delhi,"  replied  Nurjahan, 
stifling  a  yawn.  "  I  sent  for  her,  seeing  that  report  saith  she  is 
even  as  the  angels  of  God.  Fedai,  go  down  and  receive  her  with 
due  honour." 

With  one  of  his  most  irresistible  salaams  the  gorgeous  figure  of 
the  Court  dandy  stepped  gracefully  down  the  lamp-edged  steps, 
and  the  Court  beauties  craned  through  the  wires  to  watch  him. 
The  men  bodies,  however,  were  more  anxious  to  see  what  sort 
of  woman  an  angel  of  God  might  be  !  But  the  glare  of  the  lamps, 
soft  as  it  was,  half  shrouded  the  little  group  in  a  golden  mi$t  as, 
the  curtains  of  the  dhooli  withdrawn,  Fedai  Khan,  with  a  swagger, 
prepared  to  assist  the  fair  occupant  to  descend.  She  did  not  move. 

"  Most  Marvellous  !"  began,  with  another  elaborate  bow,  the 
man  to  whom  singers  and  dancers  were  over  familiar;  then  his 
jaw  fell:  "  Allah-i-hakk /"  he  muttered  hoarsely,  starting  back. 

For  the  sight  he  saw  was  ghastly  enough.  Propped  up  by 
pillows  into  a  semblance  of  life  sat  a  dead  woman,  bedizened, 
bedecked,  the  tawdry  finery  of  her  profession  contrasting  bitterly 
with  the  still  majesty  of  the  clay-cold  face. 

His  whispered  exclamation  reached  Nurjahan's  ears,  over- 
powering the  flutings  of  the  birds  and  the  insistent  low  throbbing 
of  the  drums  which  are  the  inevitable  accompaniment  of  all 
Eastern  entertainments. 

She  was  on  the  alert  in  a  second,  as  she  ever  was;  for  life  was 
one  long  round  of  superintendence  and  supervision. 

"  What  is%  Fedai  ?"  she  called,  and  added  imperiously,  "  Do 
what  thou  canst  !" 


210  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

The  words  seemed  to  bring  comprehension  to  the  Prince  of 
Devoted  Servitors;  comprehension  of  danger,  possibly  of  death. 
But  with  the  comprehension  came  devoted  service,  and  he  pulled 
himself  together. 

"  The  honourable  lady  is  ill,"  he  said,  as  with  a  hand  that, 
despite  his  effort,  trembled,  he  stepped  forward  and  drew  the 
curtains.  "  With  permission  I  will  escort  her  to  a  physician." 

So  adown  the  velvet  pathway  the  royal  palanquin  ambled, 
Fedai  Khan  keeping  that  trembling  hand  of  his  on  the  curtain, 
while  whisperings  arose  amongst  the  guests;  whisperings,  and 
amongst  some,  covert  smiles  and  sneers,  while  one  or  two  looked 
disappointed,  as  if  some  mischief  had  missed  its  mark. 

Perhaps  it  had  !    Nurjahan  did  not  stop  to  think. 

"  Master  of  the  Ceremonies  !"  came  her  clear  cold  voice, 
"  The  next  item — and  quickly,  slave  ! 

It  was  an  acrobatic  performance,  and  greatly  interested 
Jahangir,  so  far,  indeed,  as  he  could  be  interested,  for  sleep  had 
almost  overtaken  him. 

But  the  mind  of  the  Princess  to  whom  he  had  given  his  unre- 
served confidence  was  busy  now  with  possibilities.  What  had 
it  been  ?  What  had  folks  dared  to  do  ?  Her  keen  sight  seemed 
to  have  seen  a  dead  face.  Had  they  meant  to  spoil  the  festival  ? 
Or  was  it  more  ? 

An  hour  or  two  afterwards,  in  her  own  apartments,  she  was 
receiving  Fedai  Khan's  report. 

"  Was  it  of  plague  the  woman  died  ?"  she  asked  bluntly. 

The  strong  man  flushed  a  little.  "  We  did  not  touch  her, 
Highness.  Old  Phusla  came,  and  some  of  his  belongings  carried 
her  to  the  jungle  and  burnt  her — dhooli  and  all." 

She  frowned,  but  she  acquiesced.  Life  must  be  dear  to  the 
curled  darling  of  the  Court;  and  yet  she  would  fain  have  known 
what  her  enemies  had  dared. 

"  See  that  another  dhooli,  alike  in  all  points,  be  made  at  once," 
she  said,  briefly  adding  after  a  pause,  "  So  that  ends  it !" 

But  in  her  heart  of  hearts  she  knew  it  had  but  just  begun, 
that  she  must  be  prepared  for  endless  plottings  and  counter- 
plottings. 

And  her  very  soul  sickened  at  the  thought,  even  while  her 
high  spirit  rose  up  in  arms  against  her  enemies. 


CHAPTER  V 

"  In  the  Serai  the  Travellers  sit  and  drink 
Of  Friendship's  cup  with  many  a  nod  and  wink. 
Yet  some  are  Murderers,  and  some  are  Thieves  ; 
Only  God  knows  what  in  their  hearts  they  think." 

"  'Tis  ever  wiser  to  have  two  strings  to  one's  bow/'  said  Nur- 
jahan,  ending  a  discussion  with  her  father.  "  And  safety  lies, 
when  there  are  plots,  in  starting  others.  A  multitude  of  hares 
perplexes  the  dogs;  as  all  know.  Shahjahan  hath  angered  Prince 
Parviz  by  his  jealousy;  as  if  any  sane  man  should  be  jealous  of 
such  a  good-natured  boy  !  Therefore  thou  must  work  on  the 
latter  to  see  in  Khushrau's  release  a  hope  of  revenge  on  Shah- 
jahan. And  the  Gosain  Jadrup  can  be  bribed  to  support  the 
release  also " 

Ghiyass-ud-din  shook  his  head.  "  'Tis  ill  bribing  a  holy 
man "  he  began. 

Nurjahan  laughed.  "  Bribe  him  by  his  holiness,  father  ! 
He  hath  an  overweening  conceit  of  his  own  morality.  Show 
him  that  the  worldly  do  not  wish  it,  and  he  is  caught  in  the  snare 
of  his  virtue." 

She  spoke  bitterly,  since  in  truth  her  heart  was  hardening 
under  the  pressure  of  her  surroundings;  for  all  save  the  man 
whose  welfare  was  now  so  bound  up  in  her  own  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  separate  their  interests. 

"  And,"  she  added  in  a  different  tone,  "  'twill  be  better  for 
the  Emperor's  peace  of  mind.  He  is  not  full  satisfied  concerning 
Khushrau  himself;  else  would  he  long  ago  have  yielded  to  the 
claim  of  death  for  which  Shahjahan's  success  calls  so  loud " 

"  Most  true,"  put  in  Ghiyass-ud-din  craftily;  "  but  if  the 
Timurid  law  of  seniority  doth  harass  the  King,  will  it  not  in- 
crease this  if  Khushrau  be  set  free  ?" 

"  'Twill  salve  the  present;  and  I  mean  it  not  to  affect  the 
future,"  replied  the  Empress  curtly;  "  but  'twill  strengthen  my 


212  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

hands  in  regard  to  Shahjahan  and  keep  him  where  I  wish  him  to 
remain,  in  the  right  path.  Therefore  prepare  Parviz.  His 
offering  must  be  superb.  My  revenues  are  his,  so  see  that 
nothing  lacks  !" 

And  nothing  did  lack.  Parviz,  arriving  from  Allahabad  to 
pay  his  respects  to  the  Emperor,  presented  gifts  ip  the  value, 
they  say,  of  four  millions  of  money — eighty  trained  elephants 
of  the  highest  value;  two  hundred  thoroughbred  horses  caparisoned 
in  gold;  a  thousand  dromedary  camels  chosen  for  their  speed;  to 
say  nothing  of  trays  on  trays  of  the  rarest  fabrics  and  the  most 
costly  jewels. 

No  wonder  is  it  that  Jahangir,  ever  ready,  boy-like,  to  be 
tickled  by  a  straw,  threw  a  pearl  chaplet  round  his  son's  neck 
and  instantly  trebled  his  emoluments. 

It  was  a  good  beginning;  then  novelty  supplied  an  extra  fillip 
to  the  growth  of  paternal  pride.  It  was  some  years  since  Jahangir 
had  seen  his  son,  who  had  grown  to  be  a  fine-looking  man,  portly 
as  was  his  father  at  his  age,  but  with  frank,  engaging  manners. 

So  he  was  received  effusively  and  placed  on  the  Emperor's 
right  hand,  while  Shahjahan,  with  twice  his  brains  and  four  times 
his  reputation,  was  relegated  for  once  to  the  left  hand,  where  he 
sat  glowering,  wondering  what  the  magnificence  of  the  reception 
meant.  He,  of  course,  was  accustomed  to  such  welcome.  His, 
after  his  Deccan  triumph,  had  been  still  more  effusive;  but  Parviz 
had  done  nothing  to  deserve  this  save  pour  riches  at  the  Emperor's 
feet.  So,  cursed  by  his  suspiciousness,  Shahjahan  stood  aloof 
from  the  rejoicings. 

It  was  not  till  a  full  month  after  the  welcome  that  Parviz 
appeared  one  day  at  the  private  audience,  bare-headed,  the  blue 
kerchief  of  sorrow  round  his  neck,  and  casting  himself  at  the 
Emperor's  feet,  broke  out  into  bitter  regret.  It  was  beyond 
endurance,  he  complained,  to  bear  the  load  of  reflection,  that  while 
he  and  his  two  brothers,  Shahjahan  and  young  Shahriyar,  could 
pass  their  lives  in  every  kind  of  amusement  and  indulgence  and 
ease,  that  their  eldest  brother  should  for  fifteen  years  have  dragged 
on  a  wretched  existence  in  the  solitude  of  a  prison.  It  was  not 
the  lot  of  frail  humanity  to  be  blameless;  but  clemency  was  the 
peculiar  and  most  becoming  attribute  of  Kings  ! 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  213 

The  whole  scene  was  probably  artificial,  the  result  fore-ordained. 

Jahangir  asked  if  Parviz  was  prepared  to  accept  responsibility 
that  the  unhappy  Khushrau  would  never  again  commit  himself 
by  disloyal  and  refractory  conduct;  whereupon  Parviz  immedi- 
ately committed  to  paper  a  few  lines  in  the  nature  of  a  surety 
bond,  and  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage-bell. 

Except  to  Shahjahan.  He  was  close  to  the  end  of  the  tether 
of  loyalty.  Nurjahan,  with  all  her  cleverness,  had  not  rightly 
calculated  the  full  measure  of  his  suspicions.  What  she  had 
deemed  should  bring  him  to  heel,  by  arousing  his  dread  of  dangers 
to  come,  had  awakened  reckless  antagonism.  Something  must 
be  done,  and  at  once,  to  allay  his  resentment.  He  must  not  be 
allowed  to  take  the  wrong  path.  She  must  make  an  effort  to 
reassure  him.  But  how  ? 

She  was  sick  to  death  of  plotting  and  counter-plotting.  Shah- 
jahan had  brains.  She  would  tell  him  the  truth. 

So  she  sent  for  him,  and  he  came  to  her  in  the  small  gallery 
overlooking  the  river.  The  whole  palace  had  lately  been  re- 
decorated by  the  Emperor  in  his  lavish,  flamboyant  manner, 
the  pillars  all  covered  with  plates  of  gold  and  inlaid  with  rubies, 
turquoises,  pearls.  The  very  marble  of  the  lattice-work  of  the 
balcony  was  gilt  and  coloured.  In  sharp  contrast  to  all  this 
splendour,  Nurjahan  sat  on  a  low  stool  simply  dressed  in  white, 
as  she  had  ever  been  in  those  first  years  of  her  acquaintance,  in 
the  Garden  of  Roses,  with  the  darling  of  old  Racquiya  Begum's 
heart. 

"  Farzand  "  (son),  she  began,  smiling,  "  'tis  as  the  friend  of 
thy  more  than  mother  that  I  desire  to  speak  to  thee  to-day. 
Sit  yourself  so  thou  canst  see  my  face,  and  listen  to  the  truth." 

"  The  truth  falls  not  often  from  a  woman's  lip,"  he  replied. 

She  bit  hers  to  keep  back  a  sharp  answer.  "  Not  from  Arja- 
mand's  ?"  she  asked,  still  smiling.  "  And  she  is  close  kin  to 
me.  I  think  thou  dost  forget  that.  Lo  !  thy  children  are  as 
mine.  Bethink  thee,  Shahjahan  !  Did  I  not  nigh  kill  myself 
nursing  thy  nurseling  ?  Is  he  not  even  now  the  apple  of  mine 
eyes  ?  And  setting  sentiment  aside,  bethink  thee  again  !  Should 
I,  whose  brain  has  brought  me — here — prefer  a  dullard  to  one 
who — despite  his  evil  jealousy — could  carry  on  my  work  as  I 


214  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

would  wish  it  carried  on  ?  Listen,  0  Shahjahan,  to  more  than 
I  have  told  others.  I  came  into  thy  father's  life  from  a  desire 
to  revenge  Sher  Afkan's  death.  Well,  that  has  gone.  I  live 
now  to  make  thy  father  happy.  Do  I  not  succeed  ?  Answer 
me  that  ?" 

"Ay,"  he  admitted  grudgingly;  "  but  'tis  to  thine  own  ad- 
vantage he  is  happy." 

She  burst  out  at  him:  "  Thou  speakest  truth.  I  live  but  by 
thy  father's  pleasure.  Without  him  I  am  lost.  So  I  will  keep 
him  while  I  can.  And  he  loves  thee,  Shahjahan  !  God  !  how 
he  loves  thee  !  Thou  art  his  star  of  perfection.  Yet  of  late 
thou  hast  been  adverse  to  me,  not  seeing  that  without  me  the 
Emperor  would — would  die  !  Yea,  that  is  God's  truth.  Ah, 
foolish  one  !  Canst  not  see  our  interests  must  be  as  one,  or 
we  both  fall  ?  See  here  !  Let  us  make  a  compact.  If  thou 
wilt  be  true  to  me,  hindering  me  not  at  all  in  this  my  work, 
I  will  be  true  to  thee.  Thy  father  loves  thee.  In  his  private 
talk  he  speaks  of  thee  as  heir.  This  will  I  continue  to  nourish, 
if " 

Shahjahan's  gloomy  face  gloomed  still  more. 

"  Then  wherefore  use  thine  influence  for  Khushrau  ?"  he  asked 
bitterly. 

She  gave  him  a  keen  cold  glance.  "  First  as  safeguard  for 
myself  against  thee  if  thou  art  recalcitrant.  'Tis  ever  good  to 
have  two  strings  to  one's  bow.  There  !  Thou  hast  the  truth. 
Next,  because  the  Emperor  was  fretted  in  his  mind.  Thou  know- 
est  of  late  he  hath  taken  seriously  to  religion — overmuch  mayhap 
— and  he  feared  to  be  unjust.  He  hath  a  soft  heart,  Shahjahan 
— and — and  he  is  somewhat  afraid — of  God's  wrath  !  As  if— 
but  no  matter  !  Third  " — here  she  smiled  suddenly,  radiantly, 
and  the  old  dimple  asserted  its  charm — "  because  Khushrau  is 
a  good-looking,  good-natured  dolt,  who  will  harm  none  so  long 
as  folk  see  what  he  really  is.  I'll  warrant  me  in  a  year  the 
ardour  of  those  who  favour  a  poor,  persecuted  Prince  in  prison 
will  have  cooled.  Nay,  Shahjahan,"  she  continued,  "  emulate 
not  his  stupidity.  Thou  hast  the  brains,  man;  so  Shahjahan, 
and  Shahjahan  only,  is  what  Nurjahan  chooses."  She  held  out. 
her  hand,  and  for  the  life  of  him,  the  man  could  not  choose  but 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  215 

take  it.  Ay,  she  was  clever,  and  beautiful  beyond  compare. 
Confused  thoughts  of  a  change  in  his  policy,  of  making  this  woman 
his  friend  indeed,  coursed  through  his  brain. 

"  So  long,"  she  added,  fixing  her  luminous  eyes  upon  him,  "  as 
thou  keepest  to  the  straight  path.  See  you — I  would  fain  end 
this  doubt  of  each  other — I  have  told  you  the  truth — dost  accept 
it  ?" 

She  held  him  by  her  masterful  wit.  In  her  presence,  with  those 
eyes  upon  him,  he  felt  she  told  truth.  Yet  even  so,  his  response 
was  niggardly. 

"  I  accept  for  the  past  and  present.  The  future  is  with  God," 
he  said;  and  with  that  Nurjahan  had  perforce  to  be  content. 

It  made  the  present  easier,  at  any  rate;  for  Jahangir,  once 
he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  for;  ive  his  eldest  son,  seized  on  the 
occasion  with  all  the  zest  of  a  ch:!d  as  an  opportunity  for  merry- 
making and  display. 

If  he  was  to  forgive,  he  declared,  it  must  be  done  in  :  ight  royal 
fashion,  and  with  no  reservations.  And  all  must  take  part  in 
it.  To  begin  with  a  truly  magnificent  entertainment  must  be 
prepared  in  the  "  Abode  of  Light  "  garden.  This  was  one  of 
the  largest  gardens  in  India,  covering  some  three  hundred  acres 
of  ground  and  enclosed  by  an  exceedingly  strong  and  lofty  wall. 
A  canal,  passing  through  its  midst,  filled  large  reservoirs  in  each 
corner,  and  a  marble-stepped  tank  in  the  middle;  while  round 
each  sheet  of  water  rose  carven  marble  pavilions  richly  decorated. 
So  much  the  art  of  man  had  done  for  beauty;  but  Nature  had  put 
the  last  touch  of  perfection,  for  nowhere  else  did  flowers  blossom  in 
such  profusion;  nowhere  else  did  the  fruit-bearing  trees  in  every 
variety  grow  so  lofty,  so  lavishly;  while  all  along  the  wide  four- 
square paths  edged  by  water-runnels,  tall  cypresses  of  incom- 
parable age  and  size  and  form  stood  sentinel. 

A  place  in  which,  amid  the  silence  from  all  whisper  even  of 
the  outside  world,  to  dream  away  the  hot  hours  of  a  summer  day, 
forgetful  of  all  but  the  flickering  butterflies,  the  scent  of  the 
flowers,  the  song  of  the  birds. 

A  pity,  surely,  to  profane  it  with  coloured  lamps  and  gold 
embroidered  carpetings.  But  this  was  done  without  regard  to 
expense,  and  on  the  appointed  day  Prince  Khushrau  was  brought 


216  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

thither  with  all  pomp,  arrayed  in  one  of  the  Emperor's  best  suits, 
encrusted  with  diamonds,  seated  on  his  best  elephant  in  a  jewelled 
howdah  that  cost  £300,000. 

But  nothing  lacked  to  support  the  splendour  of  his  rank  as 
Prince  of  the  blood  royal. 

In  truth  Jahangir  had  enhanced  the  preciousness  of  the  re- 
conciliation scene  by  every  possible  device,  and  when  his  son, 
tall  and  handsome,  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  throne,  his  head  at  his 
father's  feet,  reciting  verses  indicative  of  his  deep  distress,  and 
imploring  clemency  for  the  past  and  indulgence  for  the  future, 
the  Emperor  felt  a  vast  satisfaction  at  the  display  of  magnificence 
with  which,  after  his  son  had  been  discarded  from  the  presence 
for  a  period  of  fifteen  years,  he  was  once  again  admitted  to  do 
homage  to  the  Personality. 

And  Nurjahan  ?  Doubtless  some  of  the  courtiers,  even  those 
who  wen  most  in  favour  of  Police  Khushrau,  had  their  tongues 
in  their  cheeks;  but  she  knew  the  Emperor  too  well  for  that. 
She  knew  that  it  was  all  real  to  him,  that  in  his  heart  of  hearts 
he  was  glad  to  be  at  peace  with  all  his  sons. 

He  beamed  so  that  he  even,  infected  Shahjahan,  who  did  his 
part  with  a  wonderfully  good  grace  when  Jahangir,  ever  full  of 
ideas  and  conceits,  ordered  a  rich  carpet  to  be  spread  before  him, 
then  called  his  four  sons  to  seat  themselves  on  it,  and  pass  round 
a  loving-cup  in  token  of  their  good  accord. 

"  It  shall  be  my  cup,"  quoth  Jahangir  in  his  full,  joyous 
voice,  "  the  cup  of  luck  !  The  cup  from  which  I  drink  ever, 
the  cup  that  hath  brought  me  freedom  from  the  toils  of  intoxica- 
tion." And  he  looked  round  lovingly  to  where  Nurjahan,  barely 
screened  by  golden  lace-work,  sat  beside  his  throne. 

It  was  somewhat  of  an  exaggeration,  this  statement  of  his, 
for  with  the  years,  the  ruby  cup  had  ceased  to  be  in  constant 
use,  and  the  Emperor's  potations  had  somewhat  increased, 
'bough  they  were  still  moderate  in  comparison  with  what  they 
had  been,  and  did  not  interfere  at  all  with  his  dignity  as  monarch. 
Still,  the  statement  reflected  his  mood  at  the  moment,  the  cup 
was  produced,  and  the  four  brothers  toasted  each  other  in  it, 
all  smiles  and  laughter,  while  the  courtiers  craned  and  crowded 
round  to  see. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  217 

"  'Tis  a  quaint  cup,"  said  suddenly  a  man  with  the  level  bars 
of  Vishnu  worship  on  his  forehead.  "  Whence  came  it,  dost 
know  ?"  he  asked  of  his  neighbour.  But  the  neighbour  shook 
his  head,  and  no  more  was  said.  Yet  a  pair  of  covetous  eyes 
followed  the  servant  who,  when  the  ceremony  was  over,  removed 
the  beaker  of  wine  and  the  cup  for  safe  custody. 

Then  ensued  the  inevitable  entertainment.  The  slow  struttings 
of  professional  dancers  went  on  interminably,  while  Jahangir 
yawned  contentedly  and  the  head  officials  sat  round  in  adulation. 
But  for  others  there  were  other  amusements,  and  down  in  one 
of  the  corner  pavilions,  whither  Nurjahan  had  retired,  little 
Prince  Bravery  was  getting  his  fun  out  of  the  show  by  a  variety 
entertainment.  Marionettes,  jugglers,  conjurors,  snake-charmers, 
all  in  turn  and  of  the  very  best,  displayed  their  arts,  to  his  in- 
tense satisfaction  and  that  of  the  ladies  of  the  Court,  amongst 
them  his  grandmother  and  old  Khanzada  Racquiya,  who;  still 
prim,  still  precise,  was  almost  bent  double  with  rheumatism. 
Yet  she  enjoyed  the  performances  hugely  and  clapped  her  little 
hands  louder  than  Prince  Bravery  clapped  his. 

"  Now,  have  a  care,  child;  the  next  is  snakes  !"  she  shrilled  as 
a  man  with  his  banghy  baskets  appeared  salaaming. 

Old  Phusla  the  Strangler,  who,  in  a  uniform  that  was  literally 
encrusted  with  gold,  sat  sleepily  on  the  second  step  of  the  pavilion, 
looked  up  suddenly. 

"  Snakes  !  Who  wants  snakes  ?"  cavilled  one  of  the  harem 
ladies,  yawning.  "  Take  them  away  and  let  us  have  something 
of  entertainment." 

"  Nay,  sister,"  remonstrated  Nurjahan.  "  These  be  from 
the  Deccan,  and  the  Prince  hath  oft  told  me  they  excel  there — 
and  the  child  loves  them,  dost  not,  little  one  ?" 

The  child,  who,  spoilt  unbearably  after  the  manner  of  Eastern 
children,  had  at  first  word  of  dissent  made  preparations  for  tears, 
turned  to  smiles  instead,  and  his  grandmothers  called  down 
blessings  on  his  head,  after  the  manner  of  fond  Eastern  grand- 
mothers. 

And  of  a  truth  the  snakes  were  worthy  smiles.  They  danced, 
and  tied  themselves  in  knots,  and  did  homage  in  curves  to 
perfection. 


2i 8  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

It  was  a  quaint  scene.  Just  a  corner  of  the  wide  garden 
that  was  filled  to  overflowing  with  pleasure-seekers;  a  corner 
screened  off  for  the  women  folk,  who  sat  chattering,  laughing, 
chewing  pan,  and  idly  watching  or  not  watching  the  group  upon 
the  marble  steps.  A  group  seen  mistily  by  the  soft  light  of  the 
innumerable  little  cresset  lamps  that  outlined  the  pavilions 
into  palaces  of  golden  light.  Overhead  fire  balloons  showed  on 
the  violet  velvet  of  the  sky,  and  rockets  like  shooting  stars  sped 
over  the  arch,  burst,  and  sank  in  showers  of  coloured  sparks ;  for 
in  another  corner  of  the  garden  fireworks  were  being  sent  up.  It 
all  seemed  to  centre  round  the  dancing,  swaying  cobras,  the 
lithe  dark  man  blowing  his  hollow  notes,  and  old  Phusla,  but  half 
awake  upon  the  second  step;  and  above  that,  on  the  top  one, 
Nurjahan,  with  the  child  upon  her  lap;  behind  the  other 
ladies. 

"  Have  a  care,  slave,"  cried  Phusla  sharply,  as  a  snake — surely 
new  escaped  from  the  basket — slid  swiftly  upwards  towards 
royalty,  and  two  or  three  of  the  ladies  screamed;  notably  the 
grandmothers. 

"  Nay  !"  smiled  Nurjahan.  "  "Pis  not  the  man's  fault  utterly. 
Thou  hadst  best  take  the  boy  thyself,  amma-jdn,  if  thou  art 
feared;  for  the  beasts  come  ever  to  me,  do  they  not,  Dilaram  ?" 

Dilaram,  who,  despite  her  many  years  and  increasing  stout- 
ness, still  insisted  on  her  position  as  governess  to  the  harem 
when  entertainments  were  going  on,  wheezed  a  long-winded 
reply,  beginning  with  experiences  in  the  Garden  of  Roses. 

Meanwhile  the  snake-charmer,  who  had  deftly  made  a  dive 
after  the  curbing  rope  of  a  thing,  caught  it  by  the  tail  and  run  his 
hand  up  behind  its  hood,  was  standing  within  easy  reach  of  Nur- 
jahan, who  had  risen  slightly  to  place  the  child  on  Maryam 
Zamani's  lap. 

"  And  there  is  no  fear,  Highness,"  he  began  in  a  wheedling 
voice,  bowing  down  towards  her  as  she  sank  back  among  her 
pillows,  "since  the  poison  fangs  are  drawn.  If  Majesty  permits,, 
I  will  show  her — see " 

He  gripped  the  snake  firmly  enough,  it  is  true,  but  a  hand  that, 
for  all  its  age,  its  slimness,  was  as  iron  had  gripped  his.  Phusla 
had  leapt  to  his  feet  and  was  on  him,  his  old  face  demoniacal 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  219 

in  swift  passion.     "  See  thyself,  Bungler  !"  he  gasped  in  the  deadly 
struggle  that  ensued. 

The  snake,  gripped  hard  by  the  double  strain,  writhed  in  help- 
less fury  from  one  man's  arm  to  the  other,  impotently  biting  the 
air  as  in  the  mad  effort  for  mastery  the  hands  that  held  it  veered 
dangerously  near  body  or  face. 

It  takes  long  to  describe  the  swiftness,  the  intensity,  of  the 
moment.  But  it  was  only  a  moment. 

With  a  repetition,  this  time  low,  guttural,  of  "  See  thyself, 
Bungler  !"  scarce  heard  in  the  awful  sob  of  agonized  fear  that 
broke  from  the  wretched  snake-charmer's  lips,  Phusla  forced 
the  open  snapping  mouth  on  to  the  man's  chin.  It  was  done 
in  a  moment — the  fatal  bite  was  given.  He  loosed  his  hold,  but 
Phusla's  tightened  on  the  reptile's  throat.  Then  with  his  left 
hand  he  caught  it  by  the  tail  and,  with  one  swift  movement, 
flung  it  from  'him  furiously — flung  it  as  he  would  have  flung  his 
Noose  of  Death — and  the  creature,  with  death  in  its  undrawn 
fangs,  sped  over  the  heads  of  the  watching  crowd,  the  lights 
glancing  on  its  twining  curves — shot  like  some  deadly  messenger 
of  evil,  its  jaws  still  snapping  wildly  at  the  air,  so  with  a  dull 
thud  crashed  to  death  on  the  marble  pavement  at  the  other 
side  of  the  reservoir. 

It  had  all  passed  so  quickly  that  the  spectators  gasped,  knowing 
not  what  to  think,  understanding  not  at  all  the  cause  of  Phusla's 
swift  attack;  but  Nurjahan  guessed,  and  in  a  second  she  was 
ready  for  the  occasion. 

"  Thou  art  somewhat  rough  in  thy  teaching  of  manners, 
Phusla,"  she  said;  "  but  " — she  hesitated  briefly — "  he  deserved 
it !"  And  her  voice  trembled  a  little.  "  Let  him  nevertheless 
depart  in  peace  now." 

Phusla,  however,  had  anticipated  her  order.  The  snake- 
charmer,  too  terrified  at  the  certainty  of  swift  death  to  do  more 
than  moan  feebly,  was  being  hurried  away,  bag  and  baggage, 
and  the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies  was  already  producing  a  new 
turn;  a  turn  to  arouse  titters.  Only  Racquiya  Begum  shook  her 
old  head  sagely  and  said: 

"  'Twas  well  the  Emperor  was  not  here.  He  would  have  had 
the  fellow  trampled  to  death  for  his  impertinence." 


220  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Nurjahan  looked  over  to  the  old  woman  and  saw  vague  com- 
prehension in  her  eyes. 

"  Phusla  hath  punished  him  enough,  methinks,"  she  replied 
calmly,  "  and  it  but  frets  my  lord  to  hear  of  such  trivial  troubles; 
therefore  let  it  be  as  if  it  had  not  been." 

But  as  she  sat  watching  wearily  amid  the  titters  of  the  others, 
her  mind  was  busy.  Phusla  must  have  been  suspicious;  he  must 
have  seen  the  poison-fangs.  Phusla  had  possibly  saved  her — 
if  indeed  the  snake  would  have  bitten  her.  Then  with  a  rush 
came  the  thought  that  it  would  have  brought  the  end — brought 
peace.  And  she  was  very  weary  of  it  all.  Her  spirits  revived, 
however,  over  the  wonder  as  to  whose  plot  it  had  been. 

Not  Shahjahan's,  of  that  she  felt  certain.     He  was  no  murderer. 

But  there  were  many  others — many,  many  others. 

What  did  it  matter  ?  She  must  be  careful  and  take  her  chance. 
One  thing  was  impossible — that  she  should  be  turned  from  her 
purpose  by  fear  of  death. 


CHAPTER  VI 

"Like  golden  scissors  cutting  silk,  the  duck 
Nips  at  the  azure  pool ;  the  warm  winds  suck 
Kisses  from  flower  lips  ;  my  Love  and  I 
Lie  close  and  pull  rose  petals,  seeking  Luck." 

"  HEART  of  my  heart  !"  said  Jahangir  with  a  sigh,  "  this  Kashmir 
country  is  hard  to  come  by,  hard  to  leave;  and  time  passes  swift 
therein  !  'Tis  but  the  other  day  we  sped  to  see  the  black  tulips 
blossoming  on  the  mosque  roof,  and  now  the  saffron  paints  the 
fields.  Lo  !  the  breeze  scents  my  brain  with  the  perfumes  of 
the  flower — groves  on  groves  of  it,  plains  on  plains.  Yet  it 
needed  not  that  for  contentment,  wife." 

He  did  not  look  as  if  it  did,  as  he  lay  indolently  in  the  royal 
barge  that  was  drifting  down  the  Apple  Tree  Canal  towards  the 
city  of  Srinager.  Behind  them,  tipped  by  a  black  marble  temple 
of  hoary  age,  lay  the  Takht-i-Sulaiman,  the  Throne  of  Solomon, 
quaint  isolated  hill  whence  you  look  out  over  what  is  surely 
one  of  the  fairest  countries  in  God's  world — the  Vale  of  Kashmir. 

Nurjahan  nodded  assent.  The  past  six  months,  since,  out- 
wearied  utterly  by  plague  and  plots,  the  royal  pair  had  conceived 
the  idea  of  spending  the  summer  in  the  playground  of  the  East, 
had  sped  by  with  scarce  a  cloud  to  mar  their  perfect  peace, 
their  absolute  enjoyment. 

"  Yea,"  she  said  absently,  "  it  hath  been  pleasant." 

The  past  tense  was  for  herself  alone;  for  she  kept  all  trouble 
from  the  Emperor's  ears.  So  they  drifted  on,  the  boatmen 
singing  their  immemorial  song,  and  marking  time  to  it  by  clapping 
their  heart-shaped  paddles  with  their  hands  and  so  sending  an 
arch  of  iridescent  dewdrops  over  the  boat. 

The  scene,  the  rhythm,  the  preciousness  of  it  all  touched 
Jahangir  into  a  sort  of  frenzy  of  delight,  as  memories  of  those 
short  months  came  back  to  him.'  Where  had  they  not  been, 
together,  on  all  the  pleasant  places  of  that  pleasant  land  ?  Under 


222  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

the  plane-trees  by  the  Dhal  Lake,  where  the  water  mirrors  land 
so  clearly,  that  you  could  trace  in  it  the  wanderings  of  a  ladybird 
on  a  blade  of  grass. 

' '  So  clear  the  water,  blind  men  in  the  dark 
Each  sand-grain  in  its  depths  could  count  and  mark." 

Sitting  in  some  boat  watching  the  sunset  flush  the  snows  of 
Haramukh,  or  across  the  long  levels  of  the  lake  in  the  shadow  of 
the  everlasting  hills,  lying  full  of  laughter  in  the  garden  of  the 
Four  Winds. 

They  had  been  everywhere.  Nay,  more,  they  are  there  still; 
for  go  whither  you  will  in  Kashmir  the  royal  pair  seems  to  have 
been  there  before  you,  and  the  echo  of  their  great  content  remains. 
A  certain  English  poet,  by  name  Thomas  Moore,  got  hold  of 
this  undoubted  fact  and  travestied  it  in  a  love  poem.  Fortu- 
nately he  knew  so  little  about  the  matter  that  one  need  not 
consider  Lalla  Rookh  as  having  anything  to  do  with  Jahangir  and 
Nurjahan. 

Their  romance  was  something  very  different;  for  he  was  in  his 
fifty-first  and  she  in  her  forty-ninth  year — somewhat  aged  for 
the  conventional  lovers  !  Yet  surely  in  all  time  no  two  people 
ever  made  holiday  more  rapturously.  They  made  the  hills,  the 
dales,  the  flowers,  the  endless  beauties  of  the  land,  their  very 
own.  To  this  day  the  man's  voice  rings  in  the  ear  of  the  traveller 
to  Kashmir. 

"  Truly,  whatever  praise  may  be  used  in  speaking  of  this  land 
would  be  permissible.  As  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  flowers  of 
all  colours  are  blowing.  They  have  picked  fifty  different  kinds 
in  my  presence  this  morning,  and  doubtless  there  were  many  more 
which  escaped  observation.  There  are  babbling  streams  and 
whispering  waterfalls  beyond  count.  Wherever  the  eye  looks 
is  verdure  and  running  water.  The  red  rose  of  the  hundred 
leaves,  the  violet,  the  narcissus,  spring  by  the  wayside,  and  in 
the  soul- enchanting  mountains  grow  all  sorts  of  sweet  and  scented 
herbs  more  than  can  be  counted,  while  the  gates,  the  roofs,  the 
walls  of  the  houses  are  lighted  up  by  the  torches  of  the  tulips. 
What  can  one  say  of  these  things,  or  of  the  scented  saffron  fields, 
and  the  fragrant  trefoil  ?" 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  223 

These  words  do  not  leave  us  moderns  much  room  for  appreci- 
ation, do  they  ?  Neither  do  they  spare  room  for  happiness. 
Even  when  little  Prince  Bravery  fell  out  of  window  and  nearly 
cracked  his  crown,  his  grandfather,  after  filling  two  pages  of  his 
diary  with  the  occurrence,  philosophically  remarks  that  for  a 
child  of  four  to  fall  twenty  feet  and  no  harm  happen  to  his  limbs 
is  productive  of  amazement;  though  how  it  happened  passed 
comprehension,  since,  having  regard  to  such  dangers  and  diffi- 
culties, he,  Jahangir,  had  continually  kept  the  boy  in  sight  and 
had  taken  the  utmost  care  of  him,  never  for  one  moment  being 
forgetful  of  that  little  seedling  in  the  Garden  of  Good  Fortune. 
In  other  words,  the  Emperor  of  all  the  Indies  had  done  dry  nurse  ! 

For  the  child's  father,  Shahjahan,  was  still  the  auspicious, 
the  prosperous  son  to  the  Emperor,  though  Nurjahan  watched 
him  with  anxious  eyes.  She  could  not  forget  his  face  when  he 
had  first  seen  the  Nurjahani  coin,  as  it  was  called.  And  for  all 
his  apparent  good-fellowship  with  Khushrau  (who  had,  of  course, 
accompanied  them  to  Kashmir),  she  was  not  satisfied.  The 
latter  had  fully  justified  her  estimate  of  him.  Probably  his 
fifteen  years  of  close  imprisonment  had  weakened  his  brain, 
but  he  was  undoubtedly  a  good-humoured  dolt,  but  with  just 
that  touch  of  likeness  to  Jahangir  which  made  it  impossible 
to  be  angry  at  his  childishness. 

In  truth  they  had  been  quite  a  happy  family  party,  and,  de- 
spite her  preoccupation  with  affairs,  she  had  found  time  to  watch 
the  little  fishes  in  the  brook  as  they  jumped  for  mulberries,  and 
help  the  Emperor  to  admire  the  marvellous  beauties  of  Nature. 
For  even  in  this  her  companionship  was  needful  for  full  enjoyment. 

Of  late,  however,  disturbing  news  had  come  through  from  the 
Deccan  by  her  secret  agents. 

Shahjahan's  work  of  pacification  had  not  been  lasting.  The 
Amirs  were  in  revolt,  and  it  was  time  someone  was  sent  to  punish 
them. 

Mohabat  Khan,  the  great  General  of  the  times,  was  already 
busy  in  Kabul  over  rebellion;  but  Shahjahan  was  wasting  his 
powers  idling  about  the  Court.  Why  not  send  him  ? 

So  she  hinted  to  the  Emperor,  who  fell  in,  as  usual,  with  her 
suggestions,  though  it  was  hard  to  get  his  attention  to  them. 


224  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

As  they  drifted  down  in  the  boat,  for  instance,  she  attempted  to 
make  him  serious  over  the  reported  death  of  one  of  his  Governors 
in  the  south;  but  he  would  none  of  it. 

"  Lo  !"  he  remarked  lightly,  "  if  it  be  so,  what  else  could  he 
expect,  being  so  fat  ?  He  could  scarcely  walk,  and  the  giving 
of  a  dress  of  honour  was  a  penance.  He  could  not  put  it  on  for 
puffing.  Were  I  as  he  I  should  be  glad  to  leave  my  lump  of  earth 
in  the  perishable  dustbin  !" 

Whereat  she  laughed,  as  she  laughed  so  often  at  his  childlike 
quips  and  cranks. 

But  they  all  laughed  that  autumn  day  when  the  plane-leaves 
were  turning  crimson,  and  the  distant  snows  of  the  Pirpanjal 
Pass,  over  which  they  had  to  make  their  way  southwards,  warned 
them,  by  the  way  they  crept  daily  down  the  mountain-side,  to 
be  up  and  going  ere  the  drifts  became  too  deep. 

Everyone  was  in  high  spirits,  for  it  was  the  Feast  of  the  Dasahra, 
and  as  it  was  to  be  the  last  festival  in  Kashmir,  it  was  bein? 

'  O 

celebrated  with  much  fervour. 

Seated  in  a  pavilion  overlooking  the  river,  the  Emperor  spent 
the  afternoon  while  the  cup  of  exhilaration  was  passed  round, 
.<nd  by  the  time  the  review  of  all  the  horses  and  camels  and 
elephants  and  mules  belonging  to  the  Imperial  stables  began, 
everyone  was  very  merry.  And  it  was  an  imposing  sight. 
Horses,  grooms,  elephants,  mahouts,  camels,  and  drivers,  all 
caparisoned  in  their  best,  and  humanity  eager  for  the  gold 
and  silver  roses,  and  almonds,  and  pistachios  that  were  scattered 
broadcast  by  the  almoners. 

"  Thou  takest  that  one  with  thee  to  the  Deccan,  Baba,"  said 
Jahangir  to  his  son,  as  the  finest  elephant  in  the  stud  passed  the 
royal  standard,  "  and  thy  stepmother  gives  thee  its  marrow." 

Shahjahan  bowed  his  thanks,  with  a  quick  look  at  Nurjahan's 
face.  He  never  felt  sure  of  her,  never  could  make  up  his  mind 
if  she  was  to  be  trusted.  In  a  way  he  was  glad  to  be  going  to 
the  .Deccan,  and  yet 

He  looked  at  his  father,  acknowledging  that  the  rest  in  Kashmir 
had  done  the  Emperor  good.  There  was  that  to  be  said  in  the 
Empress  s  favour;  her  husband's  health  was  her  first  considera- 
tion* Small  wonder  since,  were  his  support  removed,  her  power 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  225 

would  not  take  long  to  undermine.  Meanwhile,  it  seemed  safe 
for  him  to  leave.  The  Deccan  had  not  taken  long  to  settle  last 
time.  His  father  had  promised  him  the  handsomest  of  money 
rewards  for  success,  and  one  must  risk  something,  even  though 
the  oaf  Khushrau  might  have  some  chance  of  an  innings. 

So  he  sat  brooding,  silent  and  glum,  while  all  around  him  rose 
laughter.  For  the  Emperor,  after  the  review  was  over,  expressed 
a  desire  to  make  an  experiment.  He  had  read  in  some  old  writer 
that  if  a  man  were  given  two  pounds  of  saffron  in  one  dose,  he 
would  thereafter  laugh  so  immoderately  that  death  would  ensue. 
The  credibility  of  this  statement  Jahangir  wished  to  investigate, 
for,  especially  when  slightly  exhilarated,  he  was  keen  on  abstract 
truth.  Now  there  was  a  wicked  pirate — a  peculiarly  wicked 
pirate — in  jail  under,  sentence  of  death,  upon  whom  the  experi- 
ment could  be  made  with  the  utmost  propriety. 

So  with  the  exaggerated  decorum  of  semi-sobriety,  the  pirate 
was  produced — a  lantern-jawed  man,  to  whom  laughter  seemed 
antagonistic,  unknown. 

"  'Tis  well,"  remarked  the  Emperor  sapiently,  gravely — for 
he  was  on  the  verge  of  a  cup  too  much — "  the  result  will  be  all 
the  more  remarkable." 

So  it  would  have  been,  had  anything  occurred;  but  nothing 
did.  The  pirate  remained  stony  grave — and  no  wonder  ! — but 
the  Court  chuckled  furtively. 

The  Emperor  frowned.  "  Try  him  with  four  pounds,"  he  said 
with  deliberation.  "  If  that  will  not  do,  'tis  a  lie,  and  I  will 
have  the  book  burned." 

The  exhilarated  Court  wagged  their  beards,  and  nodded  their 
heads,  trying  not  to  smile,  while  with  difficulty  the  poor  pirate 
swallowed  the  four  pounds.  Then  there  was  a  pause  of  suspense. 
One  minute,  two,  three,  four 

But  the  pirate  remained  stony  grave. 

By  this  time  Jahangir's  last  cup  had  still  more  bedazzled  his 
brain.  He  sat  looking  at  the  imperturbable  pirate  mournfully. 

"  It  doth  not  even  occasion  a  smile,"  he  murmured;  then, 
looking  round  on  his  company,  he  added,  "  So  where  is  death  ?" 

Sometimes  a  straw  tickles,  and  no  sooner  were  the  words 
uttered  than  their  absurdity  flashed  upon  the  speaker.  He  began 

15 


226  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

to  giggle,  the  courtiers'  repressed  chuckles  rose  to  follow  suit, 
and  a  roar  of  inextinguishable  laughter  followed,  that  echoed  and 
rang,  and  rang  and  echoed,  till  it  seemed  as  if  it  would  never 
cease,  and  the  laughers  held  their  aching  sides  as  they  rocked 
backwards  and  forwards,  shaken  to  the  marrow. 

"  Of  a  truth,  gentlemen,"  gasped  Jahangir,  when  he  could 
get  his  breath  again,  "  the  old  chronicler  was  not  so  far  out. 
It  hath  half  killed  me/' 

So,  in  high  glee,  he  bade  them  commute  the  life-sentence  on 
the  pirate  as  a  reward  for  the  longest  laugh  of  his  life. 

But  a  few  hours  later,  startled,  alarmed,  distressed  by  his 
first  real  attack  of  asthmatic  breathlessness,  the  memory  of  his 
idle  words  returned  to  him  with  remorse. 

"  Lo  !  this  is  death  !"  he  gasped  to  Nurjahan,  who,  as  ever, 
was  foremost  in  remedies.  "  I  cannot  breathe — 'tis  punish- 
ment." 

She  soothed  him  as  best  she  could,  though  it  was  all  she  could 
do  to  preserve  her  calm,  for  even  the  physicians  seemed  to  have 
lost  their  wits;  and  as  for  the  servants  and  courtiers,  they  crowded 
together  talking  in  whispers  and  looking  askance  at  Shahjahan, 
as  if  his  father's  moments  were  numbered. 

"  There  is  but  one  resource,"  said  the  learned  doctors.  "  We 
must  bleed  the  patient." 

Nurjahan  gave  a  quick  glance  at  the  pale,  exhausted  face. 
Her  common  sense  rebelled. 

"  Nay,"  she  said,  "  give  him  wine  !" 

"  Wouldst  run  counter  to  wisdom  ?"  put  in  Shahjahan,  who, 
genuinely  distressed,  stood  by  helpless.  "  My  father — 

She  cut  him  short  cavalierly.  "  My  wisdom  is  greater  than 
theirs,"  she  said  curtly;  and  with  that  ordered  wine  to  be  brought, 
and  before  them  all  filled  the  ruby  cup  and  held  it  to  the  livid 
lips. 

"  Father  !"  exclaimed  Shahjahan  in  a  fierce  whisper,  "  drink 
not;  she  knows " 

"  Best,"  came  in  a  faint  sigh,  as  the  agonized  eyes  drifted 
from  his  son's  face  to  his  wife's;  and  the  wine  was  swallowed. 

For  a  second  those  two  stood  holding  each  other  with  their 
eyes.  The  moment  for  the  parting  of  the  ways  had  come  quite 


DISTRESS  OF  MEN  227 

trivially;  but  each  knew  that  never  again  would  they  tread 
exactly  the  same  path. 

"Madam,"  said  Shahjahan  bitterly,  "you  have  mayhap 
killed  my  father  !" 

"  Sir/'  she  replied,  "  I  have  mayhap  saved  him  !" 

Whether  she  had  or  not  is  a  moot  point,  but  ere  morning  came 
this  first  and  most  severe  attack  had  passed — so  far  as  the  body 
went,  that  is  to  say;  but  Jahangir  came  back  to  ordinary  life 
far  more  devout  than  he  had  been.  He  was  quite  convinced  the 
attack  was  direct  punishment  for  levity.  That  sort  of  thing  ran 
in  his  blood  from  his  great-grandfather  Baber,  who  had  a  like 
fancy  after  every  severe  bout  of  fever.  And  the  piety  brought 
with  it,  of  course,  a  desire  to  be  more  conventional,  to  behave 
in  all  ways  more  after  the  accredited  pattern  of  an  Eastern 
potentate. 

So  Nurjahan  had  her  work  cut  out  for  her;  .for,  naturally, 
Jahangir's  entourage  seized  upon  the  passing  mood  to  gain 
their  own  ends. 

Faithful  to  her  policy  of  giving  the  man  she  dominated  a  free 
hand  in  small  things,  she  raised  no  objection  to  the  idea  of  his 
going  without  her  for  a  few  days'  tour  among  the  saffron-fields 
in  order  to  recuperate:  the  result  of  which  being,  as  she  well 
knew  it  would,  that  he  returned,  before  time,  eager  for  her  com- 
panionship once  more. 

"  I  felt,  dear  heart,"  he  confessed,  "  as  if  I  had  left  happiness 
behind  me !" 

They  were  standing,  as  he  said  this,  hand  in  hand,  on  a  spur 
which  gave  them  their  last  full  look  of  the  Vale  of  Pleasure, 
since  the  journey  southwards  could  no  longer  be  delayed,  and 
they  had  started  immediately  on  his  return  from  his  tour  of 
convalescence. 

She  waved  her  hand  towards  the  valley.  "  Is  it  not  so  indeed, 
my  lord  ?"  she  replied,  evading  the  point.  "  Have  we  anywhere 
been  so  happy,  so  content  as  yonder  ?  Shall  we  be  so  again  ?" 

"  Nay,"  he  gave  back  gallantly,  "  I  take  happiness  with  me." 
And  he  stooped,  with  almost  a  flourish,  over  the  hand  he  held. 

But  Nurjahan  was  in  no  mood  for  compliments.  Only  that 
morning  her  husband  had  carelessly  enough  let  out  what  seemed 


228  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

to  her  something  of  great  importance — namely,  that  Shahjahan, 
who  had  accompanied  his  father  for  those  few  days,  had  preferred 
a  request  that  Prince  Khushrau,  his  brother,  should  be  allowed 
to  go  with  him  to  the  Deccan. 

She  had  been  too  surprised  at  the  time  to  make  much  remark, 
but  her  thoughts  had  been  busy  since. 

Wherefore  this  request  ?  Khushrau  was  no  soldier.  Indeed, 
of  all  Jahangir's  sons  he  was  the  one  most  like  his  father,  in- 
corrigibly idle,  full  of  talent,  wilful,  but  most  lovable.  That  was 
one  reason  why  she  had  added  her  influence  to  that  of  Gosain 
Jadrup  and  Prince  Parviz,  in  order  to  set  him  free  from  imprison- 
ment. Parviz's  motive  had  been  clear  enough.  He  hoped  thus 
to  bind  his  brother  to  him  and  in  the  future,  mayhap,  enable  him 
to  make  a  stand  against  Shahjahan's  intolerable  pride  and  pre- 
tensions. But  she  herself  had  had  no  such  views.  It  was  true 
what  she  had  told  the  latter.  Ever  since  she  had  married 
Jahangir  she  had  set  before  herself  the  purpose  of  building  up 
the  Empire  first  for  him  and  next  for  his  son.  There  was  no 
question  which  son.  Shahjahan  was  far  the  most  able,  far  the 
most  suitable;  in  addition,  his  wife  Arjamand,  the  mother  of  all 
his  children,  was  her  own  niece.  The  point  was  so  settled  in 
her  own  mind  that  anything  that  threw  doubt  upon  it  seemed 
absurd.  But  this  proposition  of  Shahjahan's  opened  up  new 
vistas. 

Why  did  he  want  to  take  his  brother  with  him  ?  There  could 
be  but  one  answer,  that  he  desired  to  have  him  in  his  power, 
and  away  from  the  possibility  of  a  coup  d'etat  during  his  own  ab- 
sence in  the  event  of  his  father's  death ;  an  event  rendered  more 
possible  by  the  recent  illness. 

Her  face  set  and  her  lip  hardened  as  she  reached  these  con- 
clusions, on  which,  as  usual,  she  acted  at  once. 

The  passage  of  the  Pirpanjal  Pass  gave  her  an  opportunity 
such  as  she  desired.  The  snow  already  lay  deep,  and  ere  they 
started  in  the  morning  a  blizzard  began.  As  usual,  the  order 
'came  for  the  other  ladies  to  await  better  weather,  while  Nurjahan, 
as  ever,  remained  the  Emperor's  companion.  In  her  hunting 
dress  she  followed  him  on  horseback,  lessening  the  discomforts 
of  the  ride  for  him  by  one  half,  in  his  delight  at  her  daring. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  .         229 

After  a  time,  however,  the  road  became  too  slippery  with  ice 
for  horses  to  pass  over  in  safety.  The  path  also  was  in  many 
places  too  narrow  to  allow  of  palanquins  to  pass,  so  the  Emperor 
and  Empress,  with  much  laughter,  submitted  to  be  carried  in 
bag-dandies.  Altogether  it  was  a  most  enjoyable  day,  and 
ended  in  just  such  an  amusing  episode  as  Jahangir  loved.  Owing 
to  the  difficulties  of  the  road  the  royal  tents  did  not  come  up  in 
time,  and  those  two  had  to  shelter  like  ordinary  mortals  in  a  dry 
stone  shanty  near  the  top  of  the  pass.  The  shifts  and  makeshifts 
giving  opportunity  for  the  display  of  Nurjahan's  extraordinary 
all-round  capabilities,  she  regained  her  accustomed  sway  over 
the  Emperor  at  once,  and  would  doubtless  have  succeeded  in 
getting  her  own  way  in  regard  to  Khushrau  but  for  an  un- 
fortunate accident,  news  of  which  was  brought  to  the  former 
ere  the  Empress  had  time  to  speak;  for  long  experience  had  taught 
her  to  be  almost  over-calculating  in  her  management  of  this  man. 
So  much  depended  on  her  success  that  this  had  to  be,  though 
over  and  over  again  it  woke  in  her  a  contempt  for  herself.  Why 
could  she  not  treat  her  husband  as  a  man  instead  of  as  a  spoiled 
child  ?  But  she  could  not.  And  this  accident  was  one  which 
re-aroused  in  him  that  desire  to  be  orthodox,  as  it  were  to  save 
his  soul,  which  his  illness  had  begun.  A  great  favourite  of  his, 
a  young  fellow  who  often  acted  as  mahout  in  shooting  expeditions, 
was  drowned. 

Nurjahan,  sent  for  by  Jahangir  on  their  arrival  at  a  stage, 
found  him  in  great  tribulation.  It  was  a  judgment  on  him,  he 
said.  The  boy  had  obeyed  orders  and  remained  behind  some 
marches  in  the  rear.  Being  hot,  he  had  started  to  bathe  in  the 
river,  though  warm  water  was  at  hand.  Folk  forbade  him, 
telling  him  that  unnecessarily  to  get,  hot,  into  a  river  so  agitated 
and  bloodthirsty  that  it  would  roll  over  a  war  elephant  was 
contrary  to  the  dictates  of  caution. 

From  excessive  self-will  and  reliance  on  his  powers  of  swim- 
ming— which  were  unequalled — he  mounted  a  rock  and  threw 
himself  in.  Immediately  he  fell,  from  the  violent  movement  of 
the  current  he  could  not  even  try  to  swim;  to  fall  and  to  go  under 
were  the  same  thing,  so  he  gave  away  the  goods  of  his  life  to  the 
floods  of  destruction. 


230  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Ready  with  consolation  as  ever,,  Nurjahan  felt  she  must  be 
patient  yet  awhile,  and  take  the  Emperor  in  a  better  mood. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  when  she  did  speak,  Jahangir  met  her 
advice  not  to  allow  Khushrau  to  go  with  his  brother  with  the 
curt  reply  that  the  promise  had  been  made,  and  must  be  kept. 

"  Must  !"  echoed  Nurjahan,  her  autocratic  temper  rising  at 
once.  "  To  such  as  the  Lord  of  Light  there  is  no  '  must '  save 
his  own  free-will.  Shahjahan  wishes  it,  'tis  true;  but  Shahjahan 
is  subject.  And  believe  me  as  thou  wilt,  my  lord,  it  is  not  wise. 
Wait,  hear  what  my  father  says — we  meet  him  at  Lahore  in  a  few 
days.  Let  Shahjahan  go  forward  as  arranged,  since  the  need  is 
urgent.  Khushrau  can  follow,  should  my  father — whose  wisdom 
my  lord  trusts — approve  of  it.  So  much  my  lord  can  surely 
grant  to  one  he  loves,  and  who  loves  him  ?" 

She  had  gone  through  the  gamut  of  her  art,  she  had  ended  by 
bringing  her  beauty  to  bear  on  the  point  she  pressed,  she  had 
told  her  usual  lie ;  but  to  no  purpose. 

Jahangir,  beguiled  from  the  subject  in  hand — that  was  ever 
an  easy  task — gave  a  little  satis  (led  laugh. 

"  But,  dear  heart,  Shahjahan  will  not  go  without  his  brother. 
He  hath  said  so  in  so  many  words.  Therefore  let  be — it  wearies 
me,  and  we  have  so  many  a  more  pleasant  subject  of  discourse, 
see  you.  Did  I  tell  thee,  dearest,  that  the  religious  have  found 
me  two  more  Names  of  God  for  my  rosary  ?  They  shall  be  rubies, 
and  they  make  up  the  whole  to  five  hundred  and  twenty  and  two 
— or  twice  the  number  my  revered  father — may  God's  way  be 
his  ! — had  on  his  chaplet.  May  my  wisdom  equal  his  !  Lo  ! 
when  we  leave  Delhi  I  must  go  by  Brindraban  and  see  that  holy 
man  Jadrup.  There  is  none  like  him — sure  he  is  the  mirror  and 
mouthpiece  of  the  Most  High " 

So  he  went  on,  while  Nurjahan  sat  with  interested  face  as  if 
listening;  but  her  thoughts  were  far  away. 

Then  Shahjahan  refused  to  take  command  in  the  Deccan  unless 
he  were  allowed  the  care  of  his  brother  ?  Evidently  he  was 
afraid  of  what  might  happen.  Evidently  he  meant  to  be  prepared. 

Well,  other  folk  could  be  prepared  also.  There  were  not 
lacking  ways  to  counteract  Shahjahan's  caution.  The  Emperor 
had  another  son,  young  Shahriyar.  A  weakling,  it  is  true,  yet 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  231 

as  a  child  he  had  shown  promise.  Let  him  be  patronized;  let 
him  be  brought  forward.  It  would  at  least  give  Shahjahan 
cause  to  think.  And  stay  !  Even  as  to  her  relationship  to  his 
wife  Arjamand,  she  could  outwit  the  fool !  Had  she  not  a 
daughter  of  her  own  ?  A  wilful  girl,  Afzul's  child,  'tis  true,  who 
would  have  none  of  marriage  as  yet,  but  chose  to  be  a  canoness ; 
older  by  some  years  than  Shahriyar,  who  was  but  eighteen. 
Still,  all  the  better  for  the  quick  begetting  of  children;  children 
who  would  be  grandsons  and  daughters,  not  grand-nephews  and 
nieces  only. 

Did  all  this  come  into  this  woman's  mind  ?  Perhaps  it  did. 
She  was  almost  terribly  clear-sighted.  Far  down  the  years  she 
saw ;  far  down  them  she  laid  her  plans.  And  the  habit  of  scheming 
had  grown  day  by  day,  month  by  month,  year  by  year.  It 
could  not  in  her  position  be  otherwise.  It  was  almost  a  necessity 
of  her  existence.  At  times — lessening  times — she  raged  against 
it;  and  ever  and  always  she  strove  to  let  it  touch  her  relations 
with  her  husband  as  little  as  possible.  But  it  was  there. 

All  we  know  for  certain  is  that  Shahjahan  marched  for  the 
Deccar,  taking  with  him  his  brother  Prince  Khushrau,  and 
discretionary  powers  to  treat  the  latter  in  any  way  he  might 
think  proper.  It  is  doubtful,  however,  if  Nurjahan  or  her  father 
knew  of  this  permission. 

And  in  Jahangir's  Memoirs  we  find  this  entry  made  during 
his  stay  in  Lahore,  immediately  after  the  departure  of  the  Deccan 
expedition. 

"  I  demanded  in  marriage  for  my  son  Shahriyar  the  daughter's 
daughter  of  Madaru-1-mulk  I'timadu-d-daula,  and  sent  Rs. 100,000 
by  way  of  dowry." 


CHAPTER  VII 

''  A  holy  man  once  dug  himself  a  cave, 
Six  feet  by  three,  as  house ;  a  passing  knave 
Mocked  at  him  for  its  size  ;  he  smiled  and  said, 
'  'Tis  big  for  one  whose  end  will  be  a  grave.'  " 

IF  Agra  and  Delhi  are  rose-red  cities  it  is  because  Muttra  has 
made  them  so;  Muttra  with  her  vast  sandstone  quarries,  out  of 
which  almost  every  palace  and  mosque  and  temple  in  Northern 
India  has  been  built. 

It  is  an  experience  to  stand  amid  the  buttresses  of  ruddy  rock, 
the  wide  hollows  that  eat  into  the  heart  of  the  red  ridge,  and  think 
of  the  glories  of  Agra  and  Fatehpur  Sikri;  of  Muttra  itself  and 
Delhi  that  once  lay  here  in  solid  unhewn  mass;  dead  clay  that 
man's  genius  has  brought  to  life. 

It  was  in  an  outlying  spur  of  these  quarries  that  Jadrup  the 
Gosain,  leaving  his  hole  at  Ujjain,  had  dug  himself  another, 
as  small,  as  uncomfortable;  a  hole,  as  Jahangir  describes  it, 
"  like  an  inkpot,"  in  which  "  he  could  only  turn  round  with  a 
hundred  difficulties  and  tortures,  since  the  passage  to  it  is  so 
narrow  that  a  suckling  babe  could  scarce  pass  through."  From 
which  we  may  opine  that  the  Emperor,  though  he  often  paid  the 
ascetic  a  visit,  never  went  inside;  for  despite  constant  illness 
Jahangir  was  still  personable. 

Jadrup  had,  however,  other  visitors  beside  the  Emperor,  and 
on  one  evening  in  late  March  in  the  year  following  on  Prince 
Shahjahan's  expedition  to  the  Deccan,  he  was  sitting  in  earnest 
conclave  with  a  man,  also  of  the  religious  class,  but  of  a  very 
different  stamp.  Briefly,  he  was  the  Head  Gosain  of  the  Shrine 
at  Thaneswar.  He  had  come  down  to  Muttra  for  the  yearly 
religious  fair,  an  unusually  big  one,  since  it  coincided  with  a 
partial  eclipse  of  the  sun.  But  it  was  not  of  the  money  he  hoped 
to  rake  in  from  the  ignorant  that  he  was  thinking,  as  he  leant 
forward,  almost  whispering,  and  watching  his  companion's  face 

232 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  233 

narrowly  the  while;  since,  if  you  wished  to  influence  the  great 
Jadrup,  saint  and  ascetic,  you  had  to  be  careful.  As  Nurjahan 
had  said,  you  had  to  bribe  him  by  his  own  holiness. 

"  See  you,"  continued  the  Thaneswar  Gosain,  "  your  saintship 
knows  the  story.  How  long  ago  the  Great  Mother's  cup  was 
stolen  from  the  Shrine,  though,  having  regard  to  rumour,  we  kept 
it  secret,  and  had  this  made  to  show  the  faithful,  if  need  be. 
But  'tis  not  shown  to  the  rabble,  and,  since  the  Mahomedan  came 
uppermost,  there  be  few  of  our  religion  in  high  places." 

He  had  taken  out  of  his  bosom  a  small  red  crystal  cup,  which  he 
handed  to  Jadrup,  who  turned  it  over  and  over. 

"  Yet  is  Jahangir  most  tolerant,"  remarked  the  latter  somewhat 
evasively.  "  He  is  not  far  from  the  Kingdom.  Lo  !  I  have 
talked  with  him  much,  and  he  listens." 

"  Who  would  not  listen  to  a  voice  as  of  God's  angel !"  exclaimed 
the  other  unctuously.  "  But  thou  knowest — I  have  told  thee — 
how  we  have  sought  the  real  cup,  the  marrow  of  this  one,  for 
years;  how  it  disappeared;  how  by  chance  one  of  our  people  saw 
it,  so  he  thought,  in  the  hands  of  the  young  Princes  when  they 
toasted  each  others'  healths;  how  since  then  we  have  proved 
with  care  and  trouble  that  it  is  in  the  hands  of  the  Emperor. 
Now,  harken,  0  saint-^Y  ?  Since  Mai  Kali  has  known  where  her 
cup  is  held — held  wrongfully,  mind  you — what  has  happened  ? 
The  Emperor  hath  been  ill — all  the  past  year  he  hath  been  ailing, 
and  his  illness  increases.  For  the  cup,  see  you,  hath  undoubted 
charm  both  for  evil  and  for  good.  That  is  why  we,  who  guard 
the  Great  Mother,  desire  it  back, — not  for  filthy  lucre.  This  " — 
he  touched  the  cup  he  had  given  to  Jadrup — "  is  as  valuable. 
It  also  is  of  ruby — nay,  it  is  more  so,  since  it  is  better  colour." 

"  'Tis  bright  enough,  for  sure,"  acquiesced  Jadrup  as  the  sun, 
shining  through  the  translucent  red,  sent  a  blood-stain  to  his  hand. 

"  And  thou  wouldst  have  me  tell  this  tale  to  the  Emperor " 

"  Not  only  so,"  interrupted  the  other  quickly.  "  See  you, 
there  is  no  need  to  tell  thee  what  would  have  happened  had  the 
cup  been  found  in  lesser  hands.  But  the  Emperor  is,  even  to  the 
Hindu,  the  Shadow  of  God,  the  Lord's  Anointed.  We  dare  not 
kill,  and  we  cannot  steal.  We  have  tried,  and  failed.  So,  in 
the  name  of  the  Great  Mother,  0  saint-_;Y,  we  come  to  thee.  Take 


234  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

this  cup  of  us.  It  hath  stood  in  the  shrine  for  years.  It  is  even 
as — nay,  better  than  the  original.  Give  it  thy  blessing.  Per- 
suade the  Emperor  that  it  is  for  his  own  safety— 

Gosain  Jadrup  shook  his  head;  the  craft  of  the  other  had  gone 
astray.  "  Nay,"  said  the  holy  man,  "  that  is  secondary.  I  will 
point  out  the  justice.  Jahangir  is  good  disciple;  he  loves  justice, 
and  the  cup,  being  stolen,  is  not  rightly  his " 

"And,"  broke  in  the  other,  "there  is  yet  another  reason; 
but  of  this,  say  naught.  Report  hath  it  that  Nurjahan  Begum 
gave  the  Emperor  the  cup.  "Pis  a  long  tale,  but  of  this  we  know. 
There  was  an  old  woman  not  worth  revenge — and  one  Zaman 
Shah,  who  hath  gone  to  his  account — in  it.  Now  the  cup  hath 
charm,  and  the  woman  hath  bewitched  the  Emperor.  If  he 
were  to  give  it  up — why  then " 

'  'Tis  not  meet  for  any  man  to  be  under  the  dominion  of  a 
woman,"  put  in  the  holy  man  sententiously.  "  Leave  the  cup 
with  me,  brother.  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  for  the  glory  of  the 
Most  High,  for  justice  and  the  Great  Mother." 

He  held  the  cup  up  to  the  sun  as  he  spoke,  and  a  blood-red 
ray  shot  through  it  and  seemed  to  pierce  him  through  the  heart. 
And  all  around  him  the  red  rocks  glowed  in  the  light  of  the 
setting  sun. 

"  But  say  naught  of  the  woman,  saint-^Y,"  said  the  other 
quickly,  "  and  bid  the  Emperor  keep  his  own  counsel.  Remember, 
'tis  God  gives  the  reward  of  silence  !" 

Gosain  Jadrup  looked  at  his  companion  with  a  tolerant  smile 
of  spiritual  pride.  "  I  need  no  teaching  what  to  say,  brother. 
The  Great  Spirit  guides  my  tongue."  And  with  that  he  relapsed 
into  silent  meditation. 

Meanwhile  Nurjahan,  who,  with  the  Emperor  as  ever,  happened 
to  be  at  Muttra  on  one  of  his  constant  visits  there,  was  looking 
out  over  the  river-steps  from  her  balcony  with  the  unfailing 
interest  that  everything  in  the  wide  world  still  had  for  her;  for 
despite  her  years  she  was  not  old  in  mind,  nor  in  body  also, 
though  the  last  year  of  life,  since  Shahjahan  had  departed  with 
his  brother  Khushrau  on  the  Deccan  expedition,  had,  with  its 
growing  anxieties,  brought  a  look  of  fatigue  to  her  still  lustrous 
eyes.  To  begin  with,  the  Emperor  had  been  constantly  ailing. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  235 

Asthma  in  its  most  severe  form  had  taken  hold  of  him,  and  the 
physicians  could  or  would  do  nothing  to  alleviate  his  distress. 
Hot  and  dry  medicines,  cold  and  wet,  goat's  milk,  camel's  milk, 
all  were  tried  without  profit.  But  Jahangir  was  extraordinarily 
patient  with  his  unsuccessful  doctors.  Far  more  patient  than 
Nurjahan  herself  was  inclined  to  be,  for  since  Prince  Parviz 
had  appeared  hastily  from  Allahabad,  under  the  impression  that 
his  father  was  dying,  she  had  become  somewhat  suspicious  as 
to  whether  the  wish  were  not  father  to  the  thought  that  made 
the  physicians  so  solemn,  so  afraid.  She  herself  could  see  no 
ground  for  fear;  the  complaint  was  very  distressing,  of  course, 
but  did  not  threaten  life.  Between  the  attacks,  too,  Jahangir 
was  quite  himself,  ready  even  to  laugh  at  Fedai  Khan's — hot- 
headed Fedai  Khan's — suggestion  that  stringent  measures 
should  be  taken  to  make  the  half-hearted  doctors  do  their 
duty. 

"  Lo  !"  Jahangir  would  say  with  a  smile.  "  See  you,  'tis  not 
their  fault.  If  God's  destiny  did  not  at  times  concur  with  the 
blunders  of  the  medical  profession,  we  should  none  of  us  die  or 
get  better  !" 

The  only  thing  that  so  far  had  seemed  to  do  him  good  was 
stimulants.  And  herein  was  a  further  anxiety  for  Nurjahan. 
Jahangir  had  broken  from  her  control.  He  not  only  drank  wine 
in  hitherto  prohibited  hours,  but  he  drank  it  to  excess.  And  he 
would  not  hear  of  moderation;  indeed,  she  had  hardly  the  heart  to 
propose  it,  seeing  that  his  only  alleviation  lay  in  the  exhilaration 
of  drugs  or  alcohol;  an  exhilaration  which  led  to  a  generally 
exalted  state  of  mind,  in  which  he  would  sit  for  hours  discussing 
eternal  values  with  Jadrup,  or  taking  himself  quite  seriously 
as  the  Shadow  of  God  upon  earth. 

Then  Nurjahan  had  other  anxieties.  Her  mother  lay  dying, 
and  though  the  tie  between  them  had  never  been  of  the  strongest 
it  was  ill  contemplating  the  breaking-up  of  what  had  outlasted 
long  years.  In  addition  there  was  the  dread  of  how  the  loss 
would  affect  her  father,  who  was  growing  very  old,  and  who, 
despite  many  a  rub,  had  ever  kept  his  youthful  admiration  for 
his  wife. 

So  as  she  sat  waiting  for  the  Emperor  and  looking  out  over  the 


236  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

crowds  that  thronged  the  river-steps,  Nurjahan's  mind  was  ill 
at  ease.  The  curious  moaning  surge  of  thousands  upon  thousands 
of  human  voices  not  dominated  by  one  common  cadence,  but 
each  giving  utterance  to  individual,  personal  speech,  fell  on  her 
ears  mournfully.  A  wail  it  seemed  to  her  of  useless,  petty 
desires  and  hopes,  joys  and  fears. 

And  when  the  Emperor  did  arrive,  the  news  he  brought  did 
not  tend  to  give  her  solace.  Jahangir,  who  had  evidently  had 
enough  wine  to  carry,  was  for  once  loud  in  complaint.  He  had 
summoned  a  new  physician,  one  who,  being  "  house-born," 
might  have  been  expected  to  have  sympathy  and  understanding, 
instead  of  which  he  had  positively  declined  all  aid,  professing 
inability  to  treat  a  disease  of  which  he  did  not  know  the  origin. 
It  was  not  the  first  time  Nurjahan  had  heard  this  plea,  and  her 
brows  darkened.  What  did  it  mean  ?  Were  they  plotting 
some  new  conspiracy  against  her  ?  The  weariness  of  a  continual 
petty  fight  struck  home  to  her;  but  she  soothed  the  Emperor  as 
best  she  could,  until,  with  much  fervour,  he  announced  his  in- 
tention of  giving  up  all  medicine,  weaning  his  heart  from  all 
visible  remedies,  and  placing  himself  absolutely  in  the  hands  of 
the  Supreme  Physician. 

After  which  he  called  for  another  glass  of  wine  and  went  off, 
relieved  for  the  moment,  to  see  Gosain  Jadrup;  where  he  remained 
longer  than  usual,  returning  in  high  spirits,  full  of  Gosain-_/Y's 
merits.  God  Almighty  had  given  Jadrup  an  unusual  grace  and 
lofty  understanding,  an  exalted  nature  and  sharp  intellectual 
powers,  together  with  a  God-given  knowledge  and  a  heart  free 
from  the  attachments  of  this  world.  A  man  could  not  choose  but 
be  bettered  by  the  blessing.  One  who  had  it,  as  he,  poor  suppliant 
at  the  Throne  of  God  had  it,  was  blest  indeed.  What  to  him 
did  it  matter  what  earthly  physicians  said  ?  Yes,  though  he, 
Mirza  Mahomed,  the  so-called  Messiah  of  the  Age,  had  been 
honoured  above  all  other  Court  physicians  as  more  skilful,  more 
experienced,  on  purpose  that  at  any  dangerous  crisis  he  might 
help  his  benefactor,  he  might  refuse  and  go  to  Jehannum  if  he 
liked  !  There  would  be  no  need  for  physicians  again.  The  New 
Year  was  to  bring  health. 

So  he  ran  on  light-heartedly.     He  even  refused  his  evening 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  237 

potation.     He  did  not  need  it.     Had  he  not  said  he  was  going  to 
rely  on  the  Supreme  Physician  ? 

So  a  day  or  two  passed  in  comfort,  and  they  went  back  to 
Agra,  the  Emperor  more  like  himself  than  he  had  been  for 
months,  and  full  of  his  duties  as  monarch  even  to  the  haunts 
of  idolatry. 

"  Possibly,"  he  said,  "  I  have  in  this  been  somewhat  remiss  in 
the  past.  There  is  good  in  all  things,  as  I  have  myself  proven." 
And  then  he  went  on  to  recount  how  his  revered  father  had  once 
answered  his  protest  against  idolaters  being  allowed  to  build  new 
temples  in  these  words:  "  My  dear  child,  I  am  the  Shadow  of 
God  upon  earth.  He  bestows  His  blessing  on  all  His  creatures 
without  distinction.  Ill  should  I  represent  Him  were  I  to  with- 
hold compassion  from  any  of  those  entrusted  to  my  care.  With 
all  His  creatures  I  must  be  at  peace.  Why,  then,  should  I 
molest  anyone  ?  Besides,  are  not  five  parts  in  six  of  the  human 
race  either  Hindu  or  aliens  to  our  faith  ?  Were  I  to  be  actuated 
by  the  principles  you  suggest,  what  alternative  would  there  be 
but  to  put  them  all  to  death  ?  I  therefore  think  it  wisest  to  let 
these  men  alone." 

To  which  self-evident  wisdom  Nurjahan  gave  assent.  She  was 
not  greatly  interested  in  such  questions,  neither  were  her  thoughts 
much  with  things  unseen.  She  was  too  busy  in  this  world  to 
consider  the  next;  for  she  was  curiously  unselfish.  Her  own  future, 
outside  the  task  she  had  set  herself,  did  not  trouble  her  at  all. 

So  things  went  on,  until  one  night  the  Emperor  was  taken  ill. 
His  attendants  came  to  her  affrighted.  Their  master  was  worse, 
they  said,  than  he  had  ever  been. 

She  went  to  him  at  once  and  found  him  almost  choking  for 
breath.  Weary  of  useless  doctors,  and  remembering  how  he  had 
during  the  last  few  days  curtailed  his  wine-cups,  she  gave  his 
measure  in  the  ruby  cup  the  attendants  brought  on  the  instant, 
brimming  it  up  once,  twice,  thrice. 

It  eased  him  somewhat,  but  the  attack  passed  but  slowly,  and 
she  sat  beside  him  as  she  always  did,  holding  his  hand,  cheering 
him  with  words,  ministering  to  him  in  every  way  she  could. 

But  it  was  not  till  sunset  of  the  next  day  that,  fully  at  ease, 
he  lay  back  on  his  pillows  quite  himself  again.  Yet  not  quite. 


238  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

As  a  rule  when  an  attack  was  over,  the  elasticity  of  his  spirits 
caused  a  rebound  in  favour  of  vitality.  This  time  he  lay  languid, 
as  if  disappointed  or  dissatisfied. 

"  My  lord  is  through  his  trouble/'  said  his  nurse  sympathetic- 
ally. "  Praise  be  to  whom  praise  is  due  !" 

He  laughed  suddenly,  bitterly.  "  Ay/'  he  answered,  "  to 
whom  it  is  due — not  to  those  who  promise  falsely."  Then  he 
added,  "  Give  me  more  wine.  I  go  back  to  that." 

She  handed  him  the  cup.  As  she  did  so  something  about  it 
struck  her.  There  had  always  been  a  slight  flaw  near  the  bottom, 
and  she  could  not  see  it.  She  held  it  up  in  the  sun-ray  to  see, 
but  all  was  clear,  the  light  was  nowhere  refracted  at  a  different 
angle. 

Startled,  she  looked  at  Jahangir;  he  was  looking  at  her  half 
angrily,  half  dubiously.  "  Give  it  me,  quick,"  he  said;  "  stand 
not  so  staring  at  nothing." 

His  very  voice  increased  her  wonder.  "  I  was  looking  for 
the  flaw,"  she  said  slowly.  "  It  is  not  there." 

"  Not  there  !"  he  echoed  lightly;  "  that  makes  it  all  the  better." 

"  Better  ?"  Her  voice  took  on  a  sudden  seriousness.  "  Better 
is  comparison,  and  with  what  does  my  lord  compare  this  cup  ? — 
with  itself  ?  Then  suddenly  swift  comprehension  seemed  to 
come  to  her,  and  her  eyes  narrowed.  "  This — this  is  not  the  cup 
I  gave.  This  is  not — my  lord,  what  hast  done  with  it  ?" 

She  held  out  her  hand,  holding  the  cup,  accusingly,  and 
Jahangir  turned  away  from  her  impatiently. 

"  I  might  have  known  there  was  small  use  in  trying  to  conceal 
it,"  he  muttered  vexedly.  "  Thou  art  too  sharp  for  most  of  us. 
It  was  not  mine.  It  had  been  stolen  from  the  Shrine  at  Thanes- 
war." 

"  Does  my  lord  think  I  was  the  thief  ?"  she  interrupted 
freezingly. 

"  Nay,  nay,  I  said  not  so,"  he  returned,  and  his  voice,  like  a 
child's,  was  full  of  a  general  sense  of  injustice.  "  Sit  down  and 
I  will  tell  thee — since*  it  has  to  be  told." 

So  he  told  her  how  the  Gosain  Jadrup  had  urged  him  to  restitu- 
tion; how  his  own  sense  of  justice  had  coincided  with  the  holy 
man's  request.  Besides,  he  added  with  rather  a  wry  face,  it 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN 


239 


had  seemed  to  him  likely  that  the  possession  of  this  idol's  treasure 
was  indeed  in  some  way  unlucky,  that  it  might  be  responsible  for 
his  illness. 

"  Dost  give  such  power  to  their  stocks  and  stones  ?"  she  asked 
sarcastically — "  thou,  a  believer  in  the  one  true  God,  the  one 
Supreme  Physician  ?" 

But  he  was  ready  with  an  answer  there.  Was  there  not  also 
a  power  for  evil  ? — was  it  not  the  duty  of  every  true  Mussulman 
to  avoid  the  devil  ?  He  did  not  blame  her  for  giving  him  the 
cup,  but  once  he  discovered  the  true  ownership  of  it,  his  honour 
demanded 

She  started  up  suddenly,  her  face  ablaze.  "  Thy  honour  ! 
Thy  health  !  Thy  justice  !  Didst  have  no  thought  of  me — nor 
of  the  long  years  I  played  with  it  as  a  child — not  of  the  care  I 
lavished  on  thee  with  the  gift — to  take  it  all  and  give  not  one 
thought  to  me — to  my  luck — thou  hadst  no  right " 

He  was  on  his  feet  beside  her,  tall,  menacing,  almost  bursting 
with  rage. 

"  Woman,  darest  thou  to  say  I  have  no  right  ? — I,  the  Shadow 
of  God  ?" 

It  calmed  her  somewhat,  though  she  defied  him  even  more 
strenuously:  "  Ay,  thou  hadst  no  right !  Thou  toldst  me  once 
long  ago  that  I  could  not  understand  thy  love.  Be  that  so  ! 
Thou  canst  not  understand  mine  !  Mayhap  no  man  can  under- 
stand the  love  a  woman  gives  him — by  day,  by  night,  always,  at 
all  times — my  thoughts — my  luck — my  all — and  thou  wouldst 
exchange  this  for  mere  justice — and  thy  health,  doubtless  ! 
Yea,  doubtless  they  promised  thee  thy  health  !" 

"  And  if  they  did,  woman —    -"  he  began,  trembling  with  anger. 

She  laughed  aloud.  "  Their  luck  against  mine — their  ruby 
cup  against  my  ruby  cup — out  on  it  !"  She  flung  her  hand  up 
in  disdain.  The  cup  she  held  slipped  from  it,  crashed  upon  the 
marble  floor,  and  shivered  to  a  thousand  fragments.  The  shock 
of  this  sudden  and  unlocked  for  breakage  sobered  them  both. 
They  stood  for  a  moment  staring]down  at  the  splinters  of  glass, 
then  at  each  ••  iier. 

Jahangir  was  the  first  to  speak,  and  he  spoke  in  a  low  con- 
strained voice. 


240  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

"  So  they  have  lied  to  me,"  he  said.  "  'Tis  not  even  crystal. 
How  came  I  not  to  see  ? — I  had  drunk  too  much  wine,  methinks. 
And  yet — Jadrup " 

His  face  worked;  he  was  nigh  tears,  for  he  was  still  weak;  and 
in  an  instant  she  had  realized  what  he  was  feeling,  and  was  at  her 
place  as  consoler.  Even  anger  could  not  prevent  that.  He  was 
so  much  a  child  to  her,  she  could  not  see  him  suffer. 

"  Jadrup  hath  no  knowledge  of  such  things,  my  lord,"  she 
said  hastily.  "  Doubtless  he  deemed  the  cup  was  ruby — as 
thou  didst,  my  lord,  being,  as  thou  hast  said,  overcome  with  wine. 
But  that  is  past.  Yea,  it  is  all  past.  It  hath  not  hurt — it  shall 
not  hurt " 

He  caught  at  her  hand  helplessly.  "  But  the  promise — the 
blessing  that  went  with  the  cup  ?" 

She  smiled  at  him.  "  That  shall  remain,  my  lord,  and  to  it 
shall  be  put  my  forgiveness — yea.,  my  forgetfulness  !  And  thine 
also  !  Come,  put  it  past  !  Be  patient  yet  a  while,  and  the  cup — 
ay,  and  my  luck  too — shall  return."  Her  eyes  blazed;  she  stood 
upright,  her  head  thrown  back.  "  It  is  I,  Nurjahan,  against  the 
world — with  Jahangir  as  her  lord  and  master." 

Suddenly  mindful  of  the  part  she  had  had  to  play  for  so  long, 
she  was  at  his  feet,  kissing  them. 

A  month  later  the  Emperor  wrote  in  his  Memoirs:  "  Nurjahan 
Begum,  whose  skill  and  experience  are  greater  than  those  of  the 
physicians  (especially  as  they  are  brought  to  bear  through 
affection  and  sympathy),  endeavoured  to  carry  out  the  remedies 
that  appeared  appropriate  to  the  time  and  to  the  condition. 
Although  previously  to  this  she  had  approved  of  the  remedies 
made  use  of  by  the  doctors,  I  now  relied  on  her  kindness  alone. 
She,  by  degrees,  lessened  my  wine,  kept  me  from  doing  things 
that  did  not  suit  me  and  food  that  disagreed  with  me.  As  in  the 
past  year  of  my  life  I  had  suffered  much,  in  thankfulness  that  in 
the  commencement  of  the  New  Year  signs  of  health  became 
apparent,  Nurjahan  Begum  begged  to  be  allowed  to  make  the 
arrangements  for  the  festival  of  my  solar  weighing.  Although 
from  the  date  on  which  Nurjahan  Begum  had  entered  into  the 
bond  of  marriage  with  this  suppliant  at  the  Throne  of  Grace 
she  had  made  such  arrangements  as  were  becoming  to  the  State, 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  241 

and  knew  what  were  the  requirements  of  good  fortune  and  pros- 
perity, yet  on  this  occasion  she  paid  greater  attention  than  ever 
to  adorn  the  assembly  and  arrange  the  feast.  All  the  servants 
of  approved  service  who  knew  my  temperament  and  in  that  time 
of  weakness  had  fluttered  round  my  head  like  moths,  ready  to 
sacrifice  their  lives,  were  suitably  rewarded.  And  even  the 
physicians,  though  they  had  not  done  good  service,  yet  in  con- 
sideration of  the  contempt  with  which  they  had  been  treated, 
they  received  various  favours. 

"  At  the  conclusion  of  my  weighing — I  weighed  but  thirteen 
stone,  owing  to  my  weakness  and  leanness — trays  of  gold  and 
silver  coin  were  scattered  in  the  skirts  of  the  Ministers  of  amuse- 
ment, and  of  the  poor. 

"  At  the  end  of  the  entertainment  the  offerings  she  had  prepared 
for  me  were  produced. 

''  And  amongst  these  offerings  was  a  ruby  cup." 

"  Why  !"  said  Jahangir  delightedly,  "  'tis  the  very  split  of 
a  pea  to  the  other  !  Truly  thou  art  a  witch  !  And  to  the  very 
flaw — how  didst  arrive  at  it  ?" 

"  Art  sure  'tis  not  the  same,  my  lord  ?"  she  said  archly;  then 
seeing  his  face  fall,  she  added  hastily:  "  Nay,  I  am  no  thief  ! 
Money  can  do  much,  and  the  Emperor  has  gifted  me  with  it  in 
such  plentitude  that  all  things  are  possible.  Therefore  'tis  not 
the  same — yet  is  it  the  same,  since  it  carries  with  it  Xurjahan's 
luck  !" 

But  all  the  time,  though  she  kept  such  a  brave  face,  she  flinched 
iuwardlv  from  the  future. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"Was  it  God's  Star  or  wandering  traveller's  Light 
That  guided  my  lost  footsteps  in  Life's  night  ? 
What  matters  ?     Since  it  lit  my  path  of  gloom 
And  cheered  me  with  the  hope  r_.y  way  was  right." 

ONE  of  Nurjahan's  most  potent  remedies  was  change  of  air,  and 
so  soon  as  the  Emperor  was  fit  to  travel,  they  set  off  on  a  prolonged . 
tour  round  the  skirts  of  the  hills,  ostensibly  seeking  for  some 
spot  of  ground  on  the  banks  of  the  River  Ganges  where  it  de- 
bouched from  the  mountains  that  would  be  suitable  for  the  build- 
ing of  a  permanent  hot  weather  residence;  since  there  could  be 
no  doubt  that  a  high  temperature  did  not  agree  with  Jahangir. 
So  they  set  forth  in  great  state,  with  full  Imperial  equipage, 
and  taking  with  them  the  whole  harem  of  four  hundred  ladies, 
old  and  young.  But  neither  the  number  of  these  nor  their 
varied  relations  to  the  Emperor  made  any  difference  to  Nurjahan. 
She  smiled  on  them  all,  not  because  she  knew  she  stood  first, 
but  because  they  really  did  not  affect  her  in  the  least,  for  she 
seems  to  have  bee'n  singularly  free  from  jealousy. 

It  was  an  immense  move,  the  moving  of  the  Imperial  camp. 
Reading  of  its  extent  and  magnificence  in  the  Institutes  of  Akbar, 
the  head  positively  begins  to  ache  over  the  numeration  of  its 
luxuries.  The  audience  tent  that  covered  seven  acres  of  ground, 
the  miles  on  miles  of  screens,  the  square  yards  of  silken  carpetings. 
And  outside  this  the  hordes  of  tent-pitchers  and  Heaven  knows 
who  or  what,  and  the  herds  on  herds  of  baggage-animals. 

But  they  all  got  under  weigh,  slowly,  sedately,  and  struck  off 
up  country,  regardless  of  roads  if  they  happened  to  have  a 
"  contrairy  circumbendebus "  about  them;  or  rather  making 
their  own  roads  as  they  went  along;  a  method  easy  enough  in 
the  flat  plains  of  India,  especially  when  no  regard  is  paid  to 
crops. 

A  stately  march  indeed !     One  that  lingers  pleasantly  in  the 

242 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  243 

mind  of  this  generation ;  a  generation  that  is  whisked  away  through 
God's  earth  at  sixty  miles  an  hour.  A  march  that  will  be  in- 
conceivable in  the  next,  when  "aerobuses  "  will  carry  us  at  more 
than  Ariel's  speed. 

In  truth,  a  goodly,  kingly  march,  full  of  dignity.  Yet  those 
who  know  India,  and  have  camped  there,  must  wonder  what  the 
nights — between  eleven  and  twelve  o'clock — must  have  been 
like  when  thousands  of  camels  were  being  laden  with  that  seven 
acres  of  tent;  for  there  is  enough  noise  over  the  removal  of  one 
small  "  shamiana  "  to  drive  sleep  away  from  most  eyes. 

Yet  from  sunset  to  sunrise  there  must  have  been  comfort  in 
the  "  Lamp  of  Justice  "  which,  swung  high  on  an  immense  pole, 
always  showed  where  the  Emperor's  tent  stood. 

There  was  one  very  heavy  heart  that  went  along  with  the 
great  camp;  the  heart  of  a  weary  old  man,  who,  but  for  the  fact 
that  his  daughter  needed  him  every  hour  of  the  day,  would  fain 
have  remained  behind  to  weep  over  his  wife's  tomb.  For  Bibi 
Azizan  had  died,  and  Ghiyass-ud-din,  her  husband,  felt  life  was 
barely  worth  living  without  her,  though  he  was  brave  and  said 
little  of  his  grief.  Not  like  Asof  Khan,  her  son,  who  mourned 
profusely;  but  then  he  had  always  been  his  mother's  darling, 
as  the  father  of  that  delightful  Arjamand  who  had  given — how 
many  ? — royal  sons  and  daughters  to  Shahjahan  the  victorious 
— Shahjahan  who  in  due  time  would  become  Emperor,  if  only 
Nurjahan,  his  wife's  aunt,  could  be  kept  in  order.  Bibi  Azizan 
had  been  wrapped  up  in  these  royal  great-grandchildren,  and  had 
rather  sniffed  at  the  idea  of  another  royal  great-grandchild  through 
Sher  Afkan's  daughter. 

The  good  lady  had  gone  her  ways,  however,  without  seeing  one, 
and  as  time  went  on,  even  Asof  Khan — who  was  already  ready 
to  forecast  evil  and  imagine  the  worst — began  to  think  that 
Providence  meant  to  put  a  spoke  in  Nurjahan's  neat  fifth  wheel  to 
the  car  of  State.  If  there  were  no  children  of  that  marriage, 
Prince  Shahriyar  was  not  likely,  of  himself,  to  oust  Shahjahan, 
or,  for  the  matter  of  that,  Parviz,  who  was  also  a  good-looking 
man,  in  the  Emperor's  esteem.  For  Shahriyar  was  small  and 
delicate. 

News  came  from  the  Deccan  as  they  journeyed  northwards 


244  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

that  was  eminently  satisfactory.  Once  again  Shahjahan  was 
successful,  once  again  the  auspicious,  the  fortunate,  the  victorious 
son  shines  in  his  father's  Memoirs.  And  there  could  be  no  question 
that  that  father's  health  was  much  improved  by  Nurjahan's 
treatment.  All  along  the  march  he  was  "  constantly  engaged  in 
the  pleasure  of  hunting,"  though  he  still  kept  religiously  to  the 
vow,  made  for  little  Prince  Bravery's  sake  years  before,  never 
again  to  kill  any  of  God's  creatures  with  his  own  hand.  But  he 
had  grown  particular  also  as  to  eating  them  !  The  sight  of  a 
tame  duck  swallowing  slow-worms  was  sufficient  to  make  him 
foreswear  all  duck-flesh  in  the  future,  and  there  was  a  perfect 
tragedy  over  a  white  heron  which  had  been  sent  him  as  the  most 
toothsome  of  comestibles.  "  By  chance  there  came  out  of  its 
crop  ten  bugs  in  a  distressing  and  disgusting  manner,  the  very 
remembrance  of  which  was  an  offence,"  and  quite  prevented  his 
tasting  the  delicacy. 

Such,  then,  was  the  man  who,  plus  confidence  and  affection 
unlimited,  unlimitable,  Nurjahan  had  to  pilot  through  the 
dangerous  waters  of  Statecraft — a  hard  task. 

For  her  father  was  failing  fast.  Indeed,  as  they  reached  the 
hill  country  he  had  to  be  left  behind  in  a  standing  camp  while 
the  others  pressed  on  to  Kangra,  which  the  Emperor  was  deter- 
mined to  visit;  since  never  before  had  it  fallen  into  Mahomedan 
hands,  and  he  wished,  as  it  were,  to  take  full  possession  of  it. 
For  of  late,  even  though  he  still  held  the  Gosain  Jadrup  to  be  an 
easily-imposed-upon  saint,  he  had  been  inclined  to  pose  more 
and  more  as  a  Defender  of  the  True  Faith;  an  attitude  in  which 
he  received  the  full-blooded  assent  of  his  courtiers.  Nurjahan, 
on  the  other  hand,  being  gifted  with  statesmanship,  was  for  the 
tolerance  of  Akbar.  But  she  had  little  time  for  minor  matters, 
with  her  father  on  the  sick  list,  and  the  urgent  need  to  watch  over 
the  Emperor  day  and  night. 

"  If  thou  art  so  anxious,  dearest,"  said  Jahangir  kindly,  seeing 
her  reluctance  to  leave  her  father  behind,  "  why  not  remain  ? 
I  shall  not  like  it,  but  what  then  ?  Thou  dost  more  for  me 
than  I  for  you." 

His  face,  still  heavy  despite  its  signs  of  ill-health,  was  loving- 
kindness  itself.  He  meant  what  he  said,  yet  the  woman  into 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  245 

whose  face  he  looked  knew  that  he  might  as  well  have  suggested 
flying  to  the  moon.  He  simply  could  not  live — really  live — 
without  her. 

So  she  shook  her  head,  saying  she  knew  her  duty  better  than 
that.  And  yet  when — having  gone  but  two  marches  further — 
news  came  that  the  old  man  had  taken  a  sudden  turn  for  the  worse 
and  was  sinking  fast,  she  broke  down  for  once  into  womanly  tears 
and  regrets  that  she  had  ever  left  him. 

The  Emperor  was  greatly  distressed.  He  "  could  not  bear 
to  see  her  agitation,  and  gave  instant  orders  for  a  return  to  the 
standing  camp."  The  courtiers  tried  to  dissuade  him  from  such 
an  unheard  of  procedure  as  the  alteration  of  Imperial  plans  for 
a  woman's  sake,  but  he  set  them  aside. 

"  Considering  the  affection  I  bear  to  them  both,"  he  said,  the 
tears  in  his  eyes,  "  I  can  do  no  less." 

So,  after  a  hurried  journey  the  Emperor  and  the  Empress, 
hand  in  hand,  stood  beside  the  dying  old  man.  To  English  ears 
this  sounds  a  small  thing;  but  in  India,  and  in  those  times,  it 
means,  and  meant,  much.  Nothing  could  show  the  closeness 
of  the  tie  between  those  two  more  than  this. 

Ghiyass-ud-din  was  almost  unconscious.  So  much  so  that 
Nurjahan  was  doubtful  if  he  recognized  the  Emperor. 

"  Methinks  he  doth  not,  my  lord,"  she  said  with  tears. 

But  she  was  wrong.  With  a  courtliness  and  readiness  stronger 
than  death  the  old  face  smiled,  and  the  old  lips  murmured  the 
well-known  couplet  of  the  Anwari: 

"  Lo  !  if  a  man  born  blind  were  here,  he  would  feel 
Majesty  even  in  darkness,  and  straightway  kneel." 

Jahangir,  easily  affected,  could  not  restrain  his  tears,  and 
remained  by  his  old  Vizier's  pillow  for  two  hours,  while  the 
courtiers  outside  fretted  and  fumed  at  the  unusual  condescension. 

But,  in  truth,  the  Emperor  was  extremely  fond  of  his  father- 
in-law,  and  devoted  quite  a  page  of  his  Memoirs  to  recounting 
his  virtues,  the  chief  one  of  which  appears  to  have  been  his 
unfailing  courtesy. 

"  Though  it  is  not  within  the  power  of  mortal  man  to  grant 
every  request,  no  one  ever  went  to  I'timadu-d-daula  with  a  peti- 


246  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

tion  who  turned  from  him  in  an  injured  frame  of  mind.  He 
showed  loyalty  to  his  sovereign  and  to  his  duty,  yet  left  pleased 
and  hopeful  him  who  was  in  need." 

There  is  another  entry  concerning  the  old  man  which,  from  its 
nature,  throws  light  on  the  character  of  the  man  who  sets  it  down. 

"  From  the  hour  in  which  his  companion  (his  wife)  attained 
the  Mercy  of  God,  he  cared  no  longer  for  life,  but  melted  away 
day  by  day.  Although  outwardly  he  looked  after  the  affairs  of 
the  kingdom,  and  did  not  withdraw  his  hand  from  business,  yet 
in  his  heart  he  was  grieving  at  the  separation;  and  so,  after  but 
three  months  and  twenty  days,  he  passed  away.  What  shall  I 
say  about  my  feelings  through  this  terrible  loss  ?" 

And  what  of  Nurjahan  ?  She  was  simply  crushed.  For  a 
while  she  seems  to  have  been  knocked  out  of  time,  as  it  were. 
The  Emperor  resumed  his  march  two  days  later,  but  it  appears 
likely  that  she  remained  behind — partly,  no  doubt,  to  see  the 
arrangements  for  the  removal  of  her  father's  corpse  to  Agra 
carried  out  fittingly,  but  partly  to  gain  a  breathing-space  in  which 
to  face  the  future. 

And  while  she  lay  upon  her  couch,  face  down,  silent,  not 
sobbing  at  all,  but  tearlessly,  and,  after  a  time,  fearlessly,  choosing 
her  part  in  the  drama  that  had  to  be  played  to  the  bitter  end, 
old  Dilaram,  still  flouncy  as  to  skirts,  and  old  Phusla,  skinnier, 
more  bright-eyed  than/ever,  sat  solidly  in  the  ante-room  refusing 
admittance  to  all  stoutly. 

They  had  served  the  mistress  for  so  long  together,  these  two, 
that  though  they  quarrelled  in  words,  as  always,  their  hearts 
agreed.  "  Lo  !"  murmured  the  Strangler  mournfully,  ' '  'tis 
maybe  but  natural;  yet  when  the  lady  had  borne  so  much  so 
bravely,  one  wonders  if  aught  of  courage  hath  gone  from  her  with 
the  cup.  For  look  you,  sister,  'tis  idle  to  say  it  hath  not  changed 
hands.  My  people  know  it  for  sure.  The  long-haired  ones  have 
it  again." 

"So  thou  sayest,"  remarked  his  companion;  "I  believe  it 
not." 

"  But  why,  otherwise,  did  the  Bibi  move  Heaven  and  earth 
to  get  its  match — as  she  did  ?"  persisted  the  other. 

"  So  thou  sayest,"  retorted  Dilaram  again  scornfully.     "  But 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  247 

all  saying  is  not  truth,  and  the  cat  ever  dreams  of  tripe — but  'tis 
small  wonder  the  mistress  loses  heart " 

: '  Lose  heart,  lose  all/  "  quoted  the  old  man  maliciously. 

"  Out  on  thee  and  thy  proverbs  !"  gave  back  Dilaram, 
righteously  indignant  at  her  province  being  purloined.  "  But 
there  !  a  man  ever  knows  best.  Lo  !  '  the  blind  cow  always  has 
a  separate  stall.'  But  if  thou  wilt  the  truth,  'tis  thus — Ghiyass- 
ud-din  gave  her  life  in  the  beginning  and  gave  it  her  doubly  in 
State  affairs,  for,  see  you,  one  cannot  beat  a  drum  with  one  hand, 
and  her  right  is  ever  occupied  with  the  Emperor." 

And  old  Dilaram  was  rignt.  Nurjahan  felt  for  once  the  great- 
ness of  the  task  that  lay  before  her.  But  after  a  while  its  very 
greatness  stimulated  her,  and  she  rose  dry-eyed,  vital  to  her 
finger-tips,  too  keen  to  be  up  and  doing  for  much  thinking. 

So  she  followed  the  Emperor  swiftly,  afraid,  as  she  ever  was, 
lest  he  might  be  misled  without  her. 

And  in  truth  he  had  gone  a  little  further  in  his  religious  en- 
thusiasm over  this  capture  of  that  stronghold  of  the  Hindus, 
Kangra,  than  she  was  disposed  to  tolerate. 

He  had  called  all  the  learned  doctors  of  the  law,  all  the  expo- 
nents of  the  true  faith  together,  it  is  true,  and  had  held  a  solemn 
service  of  appropriation  in  the  big  square  of  the  fine  old  fort  that 
crowns  the  isolated  hill  above  the  town.  So  far,  so  good.  It 
was  only  meet  ami  just  that  the  Kutbah,  or  Praise-prayer  for 
God,  His  PropheT^and  His  King,  should  be  recited  proudly  where, 
hitherto,  only  idolatrous  rites  had  been  heard. 

(And  here,  par  parenthese,  may  one  be  permitted  to  wonder 
why  some  such  ceremony  did  not  form  part  of  King  George  the 
Fourth's  Great  Durbar,  and  why,  for  long,  long  years  after  India 
was  formally  annexed  by  the  English  crown,  the  Kutbah  con- 
tinued to  be  read  in  the  name  of  the  Sultan  of  Turkey  ?) 

So  far,  therefore,  Nurjahan  approved;  but  when  it  came  to 
slaughtering  a  bullock  in  the  Hindu  shrine  held  in  the  fort, 
she  set  her  lip.  It  had  been  done,  however,  and  Jahangir  was 
piously  exultant  over  it,  as  he  was  bound  to  be;  for  those  two 
hours  beside  the  death-bed  of  Ghiyass-ud-din  had  fanned  the  flame 
of  devotion,  and  for  the  time  the  conviction  that,  as  the  Shadow 
of  God,  he  had  to  set  a  shining  example  of  religious  intolerance 


248  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

came  uppermost.  The  past,  however,  was  past,  and  the  only  thing 
to  be  done  was  to  see  that  in  the  future  the  balance  was  held 
more  evenly.  And,  truly,  the  view  from  the  top  of  the  fort, 
as  Jahangir  took  Nurjahan  round  to  see  all  the  merits  and 
beauties  of  his  new  possession,  was  sufficient  to  make  most  human 
emotions,  thoughts,  hopes,  fears,  desires,  disappear  into  the 
background.  Backing  the  hollows  of  the  town,  range  on  range 
of  shaded  mountains  rising  higher  and  higher,  losing  their  contours 
one  in  the  other,  till,  without  a  break,  like  a  wall  reared  against 
the  sunlit  sky,  they  merged  into  snowy  peaks  and  snowy  clouds, 
one  seeming  not  more  remote  than  the  other.  Falling  from  the 
hollow  of  the  town  southward,  edge  on  edge  of  receding  hills 
melting  into  the  blue  horizon  of  India  that  cut  the  sky,  soft  yet 
clear,  half-way  up  to  the  zenith. 

Jahangir  stood,  his  hand  in  hers  once  more. 

"  Truly,  dearest,"  he  said  solemnly,  "  we  must  prostrate 
ourselves  in  thanksgiving  for  this  great  gift  which  no  King 
hitherto  has  hoped  to  receive.  Let  us  build  a  lofty  mosque  to 
the  Glory  of  God  inside  the  fort." 

Nurjahan,  her  eyes  on  the  distant  horizon,  answered  him  ab- 
sently: 

"  Ay,  there  is  no  harm  in  that." 

But  she  guarded  him  against  more  disapproval  than  the  re- 
mark that  "  the  world  had  here  wandered  into  the  desert  of  error  " 
when  together  they  went  to  see  the  great  shrine  of  Durga  at 
Jwala  Mukhi,  where  flames  burst  forth  at  intervals  from  a  rift 
in  the  rock.  Possibly  the  remembrance  that  the  temple  had  once 
already  been  properly  and  scientifically  sacked  by  Mahmud  of 
Ghazni  may  have  had  a  soothing  effect  upon  zeal.  It  is  more 
likely,  however,  that  the  legend  attached  to  the  place,  telling 
how  the  great  god  Mahadeo,  from  the  intense  love  and  attachment 
he  bore  to  his  wife,  had  carried  her  dead  body  about  with  him 
wherever  he  went  throughout  the  world,  until,  her  form  dissolving, 
her  heart  had  dropped  into  the  rift  whence  flames  come  ever  to 
show  that  even  the  draught  of  death  cannot  quench  love,  may  have 
had  more  to  do  with  patience;  for  Jahangir,  with  all  his  faults, 
was  "  Compleat  Lover." 

Perhaps  he  clasped  the  hand  he  held  a  little  tighter,  and 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  249 

wondered  what  he  would  do  if  the  woman  for  whom  he  had  so 
great  an  attachment  were  to  leave  him  alone.  As  Jahangir 
himself  so  often  says  in  his  book:  "  God  only  knows  !" 

But  his  antagonism  to  Hindu  superstition,  Hindu  miracles, 
remained,  despite  the  fact  that  the  beauties  of  the  surrounding 
country  roused  the  Emperor  to  an  admiration  which  made  him 
forget  almost  everything  else.  The  delightful  position  of  one 
village  made  it  a  pleasure  worthy  of  being  seen.  Another  was 
so  enchanting  that  a  lac  of  rupees  was  ordered  to  be  spent  at  once 
in  order  to  make  lofty  edifices  suitable  to  the  spot,  in  place  of 
the  Hindu  buildings  which,  however  much  they  are  decorated, 
are  never  pleasant  to  live  in;  while  it  was  decreed  that  in  future 
it  should  be  known  as  Nurpur,  the  City  of  Light,  after  both 
Nur-ud-din  Jahangir  and  Nurjahan. 

She  by  this  time  had  gathered  up  the  reins  of  State  into  her 
small,  capable  hands,  so  that,  dissent  as  it  would,  the  Court 
was  not  surprised  when  the  Emperor  issued  his  edict  conferring 
all  the  powers  and  establishment,  all  the  privileges  and  emolu- 
ments of  the  late  It'imadu-d-daula  Ghiyass-ud-din  Beg  to  his 
daughter,  Nurjahan  Begum,  and  ordering  that  her  drums  and 
orchestra  should  hereinafter  be  sounded  immediately  after 
the  King's. 

They  shook  their  heads  in  secret  over  the  guile  of  womenkind, 
and  that  night,  post-haste,  a  horseman  with  silenced  horse's 
hoofs  rode  noiselessly  southwards  bearing  the  news  to  Shahjahan 
away  in  the  Deccan. 

And  all  the  while  another  horseman  with  silenced  horse-hoofs 
was  bringing  news  from  Shahjahan  to  Jahangir  away  in  the  low 
hills  where  he  was  busy  catching  jungle-fowl,  observing  their 
habits,  and  remarking  on  the  peculiarity,  "  that  though  they 
differ  not  at  all  in  plumage  or  shape  from  the  domestic  fowl, 
they  make  no  sound  when  caught  by  the  feet  and  turned  upside- 
down,  but  remain  silent,  whereas  their  congeners  the  cock  and 
hen  deafen  Heaven  with  their  outcries." 

He  was  also  observing  the  habits  of  others  of  God's  creatures; 
notably  a  very  holy  Hindu,  who,  by  repute,  had  entirely  re- 
nounced all  control  over  himself. 

"  See  you,  dearest,"  he  said  gravely  to  Nurjahan,  as  in  obedi- 


250  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

ence  to  his  daily  custom  he  came  to  her  ere  retiring  to  the  society 
of  the  other  members  of  his  vast  retinue  in  the  women's  quarter 
of  the  camp.  "  "Pis  the  duty  of  Kings  to  ascertain  truth.  There- 
fore I  sent  for  the  man  and  examined  him.  I  found  a  marvellous 
state  of  persistence.  He  stood,  arms  outstretched,  in  the  figure 
of  a  cross.  Thus  he  remained  motionless,  neither  moving  nor 
to  sight  breathing,  but  remaining  like  a  fossil,  unobservant  of 
all.  So  it  occurred  to  me  that  in  a  state  of  drunkenness  some 
change  might  be  wrought.  Therefore  I  ordered  that  they  should 
cause  him  to  take  several  cups  of  double-strength  spirits.  'Twas 
done,  dearest,  in  liberal  royal  fashion;  yet  the  man  remained 
r impassive;  till  suddenly  his  senses  left  him,  he  toppled  over,  and 
they  carried  him  out  like  a  corpse,  dead  drunk.  'Twas  God's 
own  mercy  he  did  not  lose  his  life,  but  certainly  there  is  much 
persistency  in  his  nature.  Would  God  I  could  carry  as  much 
liquor  with  sobriety  !" 

Whereat  Nurjahan  laughed.  But  the  news  that  Jahangir 
brought  her  was  not  always  provocative  of  mirth;  sometimes  it 
held  tragedy. 

The  camp  had  reached  the  Rawul  Pindi  district,  and  Nurjahan 
had  been  busy  all  day  settling  up  details  regarding  her  assumption 
of  her  father's  office,  while  Jahangir  had  passed  the  time  de- 
lightedly with  the  poet  Bi-Badal,  who  had  composed  an  excellent 
chronogram  on  the  taking  of  the  Kangra  fort,  which  began : 

"  World-gripper,  World-giver,  World-holder,  World-King, 
With  the  s\vord  of  aghazi  he  conquered  the  fort." 

It  was  growing  dusk,  and  the  time  for  the  Emperor's  evening 
visit  drew  near.  So,  with  a  sigh,  the  woman  set  aside  the  man's 
work  for  her  own,  and  put  herself  into  the  hands  of  her  dressers. 
It  is  a  quaint  picture  to  raise  before  the  mind's  eye. 

A  beautiful  woman  possessed  of  almost  absolute  power,  yet 
holding  it  by  virtue  of  a  man's  passionate  admiration. 

So  nothing  must  be  wanting  in  allurement,  nothing  to  mar 
the  perfect  beauty  of  the  still  supple,  still  youthful  face  and 
form  which,  dressed  to  the  uttermost,  welcomed  the  Emperor 
with  smiles.  But  none  were  required.  In  an  instant  Nurjahan 
recognized  that  the  man  who  came  before  her,  a  letter  held  in 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  251 

his  shaking  hand,  his  face  full  of  agitation,  almost  fear,  needed 
more  than  the  solace  of  this  world's  joys.  In  an  instant  she  was 
beside  him;  for  the  instinct  of  motherhood  for  one  who  had  given 
himself  so  wholly  into  her  keeping  was  never  far  below  the 
surface. 

"  What  is't,  my  lord  ?" 

He  looked  at  her  appealingly,  almost  pitifully. 

"  Dearest/'  he  said,  and  his  voice  shook,  "  he  is  dead — my 
little  son  is  dead.  Lo  !  how  I  remember  when  he  was  born, 
how  glad,  how  proud  we  all  were.  And  my  father — peace  be 
with  him  !" — he  was  maundering  on,  but  the  woman's  wits 
outstripped  his  words;  she  could  not  wait  for  his  verbiage. 
Seizing  the  letter  he  held,  she  glanced  at  it,  then  stood  almost 
awful  in  her  quick  suspicion. 

"  Khushrau,  thy  son,  dead  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  How — and 
by  what  means  ?  His  brother's,  likely  !" 

Jahangir  stood  before  her  almost  child-like  in  deprecation, 
scarce  realizing  the  suspicion  of  her  words. 

"  Nay,  wife  !  Shahjahan  himself  writes  in  grief.  'Twas  sudden 

— a  colic — 'tis  the  will  of  God — but — he  was  my  eldest,  and " 

he  stretched  his  hands  out  to  her  as  if  for  help.  "  When  he  was 
a  little  babe,  I  remember " 

Then  he  broke  down  almost  into  tears,  and  even  suspicion  was 
forgotten  as  she  comforted  him  as  she  could  always  comfort  and 
console  this  man  who  loved  her  so  dearly. 


CHAPTER  IX 

"  A  shroud  may  hide  the  corpse  of  one  who  dies  ; 
Flowers  may  hide  the  lips  where  a  kiss  lies, 
And  words  conceal  a  thought ;  but  this  is  sure  : 
Love  cannot  hide  the  Truth  from  loving  eyes." 

"  Lo  !  I  must  know  the  truth/'  said  Xurjahan  in  a  clear,  hard 
voice,  "  and  thou,  0  Phusla,  must  bring  it  me,  as  thou  hast  brought 
me  so  much  before/'  she  added  in  a  kindlier  voice. 

The  old  snake-charmer,  who  crouched  at  her  feet,  touched  the 
ground  with  his  forehead. 

"  To  hear  is  to  obey,  mistress  most  great,"  he  replied.  "  But 
this  slave  is  old,  old  quite  beyond  measure." 

"  Traa  !"  muttered  Dilaram,  who  of  late  had  become  almost 
the  old  man's  double,  having  taken  him  completely  under  her 
supervision  and  care.  "  God  knows  His  own  work;  'tis  waste 
time  telling  Him,  and  we  can  see  for  ourselves  that  thou  art 
old." 

"  Canst  not  set  thy  tribe  to  work  as  ever  ?"  asked  Nurjahan 
quickly. 

The  Strangler  shook  his  head.  "  'Tis  a  question  of  life  or 
death,  mistress,"  he  replied.  "  If  such  things  pass  through 
many  hands,  knowledge  filters  out  and  clouds  the  path.  Nay, 
I  must  go  myself;  and  I  go  willingly.  Yet  " — he  paused,  and  his 
keen,  clever  old  eyes  met  hers  unflinchingly — "  if  the  Presence 
will  consider,"  he  went  on,  "  'tis  a  long  journey  hence  to  Burhan- 
pore,  where  the  deed  was  done — if  it  were  done  at  all.  And  I 
am  old.  Therefore  let  it  stand  thus:  I  go;  if  I  return  not,  the 
Presence  may  know  that  naught  has  happened,  and  that  I  stay 
to  die  where  my  fathers  died " 

Here  Dilaram  gave  a  feeble  conventional  whimper. 

"  Peace,  woman  !"  continued  the  old  man  magisterially. 
"  Obscure  not  sound  sense  by  foolishness.  Wherefore  should  I 
journey  back  to  a  strange  land  ?  since  surely  my  days  are 

252 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  253 

numbered.  So  I  will  go,  Majesty;  and  if  I  find  nothing — if  'tis 
true  that  Prince  Khushrau  died  of  the  colic,  as  is  reported,  then  I 
return  not.  I  should  but  cumber  the  ground.  But  if  I  find  'tis 
as  Majesty  suspects — if  poison  were  given — if  'twas  murder, 
then "  he  paused. 

"  What  then  ?"  echoed  Nurjahan,  her  eyes  on  the  old  man's 
almost  wistful  face. 

"  Then  I  must  return — I  will  return.  Yea,  death  shall  not 
claim  me  till  I  have  given  my  message." 

His  head  sank  to  his  breast  as  he  spoke;  he  lifted  his  right 
hand — the  hand  that  had  been  so  skilful  with  the  Noose  of  Death 
— as  if  taking  an  oath  to  himself. 

Nurjahan  watched  him  intently.  Something  in  the  intense 
personal  vitality  of  the  old  man,  his  utter  disregard  of  all  lets 
and  hindrances  in  his  way,  had  always  appealed  to  her.  Now 
she  said  with  a  half  smile :  "  Thou  canst  not  noose  death  from  thy 
path,  0  Strangler,  as  thou  canst  noose  thine  other  enemies. 
What  if  it  take  thee  unaware  with  thy  message  ?" 

The  old  man  rose  and  made  his  farewell  salaam.  "  The 
Presence  may  rest  assured,"  he  said;  "  I  will  deliver  my  message, 
if  I  have  one  !" 

"  And  if  not,"  broke  in  Dilaram  with  an  angry  snivel,  "  thou 
wilt  remain  to  die,  with  none  to  bid  thee  God-speed — with  none 
to  spread  a  funeral  feast,  with  none  to — to  give  a  decent  wail," 
and  she  ended  with  the  soft  moaning  howl  of  bereaved  woman- 
hood. 

"  Woman  !"  replied  the  Strangler,  turning  on  her  with  dignity. 
"  Have  I  not  oft  told  thee  that  the  ashes  of  my  fathers  will 
welcome  me,  whether  it  be  in  heaven  or  hell  ?  But  there  ! 
'tis  ill  teaching  an  old  parrot  !" 

With  which  parting  shot  of  a  proverb — designed  possibly  to 
change  old  Dilaram's  grief  to  anger — he  retreated. 

But  ere  he  left  he  sought  another  interview,  this  time  alone 
with  the  mistress  he  had  served  so  well. 

"  Majesty,"  he  said,  "  if  indeed  I  go  to  my  death,  the  tribe 
will  still  obey  the  commands  of  he  who  bears  this  ring."  He 
slipped  a  slender  signet  ring  in  silver  off  his  little  finger  and  laid 
it  on  the  ground  before  her.  She  stooped  to  raise  it.  It  bsd 


254  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

simply  a  sort  of  caduceus  of  two  entwined  snakes  scratched 
upon  it. 

"  A  paper  signed  with  it  will  pass;  but  on  urgency  use  the  ring 
itself."  Then  the  old  face  grew  troubled.  "  I  know  not  if  they 
will  be  as  true  as  I,  but  they  will  obey." 

That  night  an  old  man  on  a  mule,  with  a  crimson  coil  hidden 
under  his  traveller's  dress,  started  southward,  guiding  his  course 
by  the  stars. 

Two  months  ?  Yes,  two  months  it  would  take  him  to  reach 
Burhanpore.  With  luck,  a  month  for  investigation.  And 
then ? 

"  God  send  he  died  as  all  men  die  !"  he  muttered  to  himself 
as  he  rode  on.  "  'Twould  be  better  for  Majesty  and  better  for 
me.  Then  could  I  die  in  peace,  and  my  ashes  mix  with  those  of 
my  race." 

Nurjahan,  however,  as  she  journeyed  Kabulwards  with  the 
Imperial  camp,  thought  differently.  From  the  first  moment 
of  hearing  the  news  she  had  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
Prince's  death  was  not  natural.  In  truth,  probabilities  were 
against  his  dying  so  opportunely.  Her  suspicions  of  Shahjahan, 
which  had  been  aroused  by  his  insistence  on  having  the  custody 
of  his  brother,  had  insensibly  grown  during  the  last  year  by 
being  dwelt  upon,  and  Prince  Parviz's  sudden  appearance, 
without  being  summoned,  during  his-  father's  latest  attack  of 
asthma,  had  strengthened  her  belief,  right  or  wrong,  that  his 
sons  were  eager  for  their  father's  death  in  order  to  wrest  all  power 
from  her. 

And  here  she  was  doubtless  right.  The  appointment  of  a 
woman  to  the  highest  office  in  the  State  must  have  been  a  bitter 
pill  for  the  men  of  that  day,  or,  indeed,  for  the  men  of  any  other 
day.  It  was  an  incredible,  inconceivable,  unforgivable  insult; 
no  more,  no  less.  It  warranted  every  form  of  detraction,  every 
sort  of  opposition,  all  and  every  conspiracy  that  could  be 
hatched.  A  weak,  doting,  ailing  monarch,  a  designing  female; 
with  these  two  characters,  any  illiterate  fellow  could  write  the 
book  of  the  play.  It  would  mean  nothing  to  him  that  the 
orders  of  the  new  Vizier  show  a  new  note  of  tolerance  and  justice; 
that  the  rumours  of  aggression  in  Kandahar  by  the  Shah  of 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  255 

Persia  should  be  met  with  statesman-like  calm,  and  a  request 
amounting  to  an  order  sent  requiring  Prince  Shahjahan's  im- 
mediate attendance  at  Court,  bringing  with  him  a  sufficiency  of 
artillery  and  elephants  to  enable  him — "  should  the  rumour 
prove  true — to  start  at  once  with  an  innumerable  army  and  count- 
less treasure,  to  bring  home  to  the  aggressor  the  result  of  breaking 
faith  and  of  wrong- doing.  Since,  thanks  be  to  God  !  the  success 
of  the  Prince's  arms  in  the  Deccan  would  now  allow  of  his  taking 
command  in  Kandahar." 

It  would  mean  nothing  to  him  that  a  tried  servant  who  had 
become  weak  and  old  was  given  a  more  suitable  post  for  his  years, 
or  that,  in  order  to  ease  the  condition  o  the  peasants,  a  certain 
heavy  cess  was  remitted  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of 
Jahangir's  dominions. 

It  would  mean  nothing  to  him  that  when  reliable  information 
was  received  that  the  Shah  of  Persia  really  had  designs  on  Kan- 
dahar, orders  were  immediately  issued  for  the  Imperial  Court  to 
quit  the  enchanting  region  of  Kashmir  and  return  to  the  Punjab 
in  order  to  expedite  the  arrival  of  the  victorious  army  from  the 
Deccan,  and  to  arrange  for  the  due  preparation  of  artillery  and 
all  warlike  material.  It  would  mean  nothing  to  him  that  quick 
foresight  is  seen  in  regard  to  commissariat  necessities;  that 
"  since  there  would  be  little  or  no  cultivated  land  on  the  march 
to  Kandahar,  the  despatch  of  a  large  army  to  sponge  on  the 
people  was  not  to  be  thought  of,  and  that  therefore  a  subsidy 
should  be  given  to  a  sufficiency  of  banjaras,  or  itinerant  grain- 
sellers,  to  enable  them  and  their  bullocks,  to  the  number  of 
100,000,  to  march  with  the  army  in  order  that  there  should  be 
no  difficulty  about  supplies ;  but  that,  by  the  grace  of  the  Creator 
the  army  should  be  well  furnished  with  everything,  so  that 
without  delay  or  hesitation  it  might  reach  Isfahan,  the  very  capital 
of  the  traitorous  Shah." 

Neither  would  the  order  sent — apparently  on  provocation 

to  the  General  in  the  Punjab  that  he  should  not  give  way  to  over- 
eagerness,  but,  undisturbed,  await  the  arrival  of  the  victorious 
Deccan  army  before  starting  on  the  campaign,  be  accepted  as 
evidence  in  favour  of  mere  woman's  wit. 

All  this  masculinity  of  organization  is  obliterated  by  the 
femininity  of  the  organ  ! 


256  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

So,  once  more,  this  time  in  August,  ere  the  saffron-fields  had 
come  to  their  full  bloom,  the  royal  pair — he  was  fifty-four  and 
she  fifty-two — left  the  playground  of  the  east,  not  by  the  Pir- 
panjaeb  Pass,  but  by  the  one  which  debouches  on  the  hill  territory 
of  Jammu,  and  is  the  quickest  route. 

For  Nurjahan  was  impatient  to  start  the  Kandahar  expedition. 
It  was  too  soon  to  expect  old  Phusla's  return,  and  with  her  usual 
and  most  feminine  sense  of  fair  play,  she  would  not  judge  Shah- 
jahan  on  the  mere  suspicion  which  lay,  nevertheless,  always  at 
the  back  of  her  brain. 

They  paused  at  the  spring  of  Achibal  for  a  farewell  feast  ere 
saying  good-bye  to  what — for  Jahangir  at  least — was  an  earthly 
Paradise.  A  place  where  his  great  love  of  the  beauties  of  nature 
could  be  satisfied  without  stint,  where  he  could  lead  the  open  air, 
outdoor  life  in  which  his  curiously  simple  tastes  found  their  great- 
est pleasure.  To  hold  a  Feast  of  Cups  beside  the  great  river 
which  gushes  out  of  the  living  rock  at  Achibal,  to  look  down  along 
the  wide  avenue  of  poplar-trees  edging  the  aqueduct  that  leads 
the  water  to  the  levels  below — those  wide  levels  of  winding 
streams  and  green  rice-fields,  of  silvery  willows  and  the  red, 
hundred-leaved  rose — that  was  content. 

"  Dear  heart,"  said  Jahangir  regretfully  to  the  companion  of 
all  his  pleasures,  "  'tis  ill  to  be  leaving  this  land  of  eternal 
spring." 

"  Nay,  my  lord,"  responded  Nurjahan  gaily,  "  not  eternal  ! 
The  winters  here  are  hard  indeed,  so  the  report  goes."  Her  face 
changed  to  concern.  "  The  poor  folk  must  suffer.  They  are 
ill-clothed.  Even  in  the  warmth  of  summer  they  carry  about 
their  clay  fire-baskets  within  their  single  garment,  as  my  lord 
must  have  noticed.  So  when  cold  comes  they  must  suffer  much 
— poor  souls  !  I  would  'twere  possible " 

"  All  things  are  possible,"  put  in  Jahangir  quickly.  "  Dost 
forget  I  am  the  Shadow  of  God  ?"  he  added  a  trifle  reproachfully. 

"  As  such,  'tis  my  duty  to  see  to  this.  So  I  will  give "  He 

paused,  the  idea  took  hold  of  him  and  he  went  on  quite  eagerly: 
4<  Yea,  I  will  gift  a  whole  village — the  rental  thereof — to  this 
purpose  of  providing  a  second  shift  to  the  poor.  Ay,  and  heating 
the  water  for  religious  ablutions  in  the  mosques,  see  you,  since 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  257 

that  is  a  goodly  work.  And  I  will  entrust  it  to "  He  looked 

round  for  help  to  Nurjahan. 

"  Entrust  it  not  to  clerks  whatever,"  she  said,  "  nor  to  con- 
tractors. "Tis  not  that  they  are  dishonest,  but  money  sticks  to 
them — they  cannot  pass  it  on  if  they  would  !" 

Jahangir  laughed.  "  Hast  learnt  that,  wise  woman  ?  Stay, 
I  have  it.  I  will  put  it  in  charge  of  the  poet — my  Persian  poet 
from  Isfahan.  Lo  !  he  is  so  full  of  the  humanities  that  he  will 
not  discriminate  too  much — and  he  will  write  me  verses  on  it 
also,  so  that  will  give  us  the  other  half  of  the  lentil !" 

So  they  sat  smiling  over  the  farewell  gift  to  the  poor  of  the 
land  they  loved  so  well.  Half  an  hour  afterwards,  however, 
they  were  frowning  over  the  contents  of  a  letter  which  a  despatch- 
rider  had  brought  with  all  haste  from  the  Deccan.  It  was  Shah- 
jahan's  reply  to  his  father's  summons. 

Jahangir's  heavy  face  flushed  with  sheer  anger  at  its  wording. 
Curtly  and  without  periphrases,  it  was  a  refusal  to  come  north 
until  the  rainy  season  was  over. 

"  I  like  not  the  style  nor  the  matter,"  thundered  the  Emperor. 
"  And  I  know  not  the  meaning  of  it " 

Nurjahan,  her  brows  levelled,  her  nostrils  distended,  stood 
looking  at  the  letter  she  held.  "  The  meaning  of  it  will  be  made 
manifest  ere  long,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  bitterness  itself. 
"  Mayhap  'tis  fear " 

"  Fear  !"  echoed  Jahangir  almost  incredulously.  "  But  where- 
fore ?  Have  I  ever  given  him  cause  for  fear  ?  Have  I  not 
loaded  him  with  honours,  with  favours,  with " 

'  'Tis  not  what  my  lord  hath  done,"  put  in  the  Empress 
coldly.  "  He  sits  free  of  blame;  'tis  what  the  Prince  hath  done 
himself.  Some  deeds  bring  fear  with  them." 

"  Thou  speakest  in  riddles,  wife,  and  I  care  not  to  guess 
them,"  retorted  the  Emperor  angrily.  "  The  fact  remains. 
Khurram,  my  son,  whom  I  have  loved  " — his  voice  broke — "  hath 
written  me  that  which  bears  traces  of  disloyalty.  He  hath 
dared  to  do  this — and' — and  for  the  moment  I  have  no 
remedy " 

"  Ay  !"  said  the  Empress,  her  mind  going  beyond  the  personal. 
Shahjahan's  guilt  or  innocence,  his  loyalty  or  disloyalty,  were 


258  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

as  nothing  to  the  check  and  delay  this  refusal  would  give  to  the 
Kandahar  expedition.  "  There  be  none  worthy  to  send  in  his 
stead — save,  mayhap,  Mohabat  Khan." 

"  Mohabat  hath  his  hands  full  with  the  hell-doomed  rebels 
beyond  Kabul,"  interrupted  Jahangir,  his  anger  growing  to  rage 
as  the  full  enormity  of  Shahjahan's  refusal  came  home  to  him. 
"  And  why  should  I,  the  Emperor,  the  Shadow  of  God,  be 
thwarted  ?  I  summoned  Shahjahan.  Wherefore  comes  he  not  ?" 
The  old  uncontrollable  passion  seized  on  him,  his  face  grew  dark. 
"  My  curse  upon  him  as  disloyal ! — to  repay  my  favours  thus — 
disobedient — and  I  trusted  him  !" 

The  man  was  roused  to  his  very  depths;  the  darkness  of  his 
face  turned  to  lividness — he  gasped  for  breath,  struggled  to  go 
on,  then  sank  back  among  his  cushions,  speechless,  overcome  by 
his  constant  enemy. 

In  an  instant,  thought  was  turned  to  remedies;  but  even  as 
she  administered  them,  Nurjahan's  resentment  rose  against  the 
cause  of  the  attack.  How  dared  he  thus  openly  defy  his  father's 
— what  is  more,  her — clear  orders  ?  Whether  he  was  fratricide 
or  not — and  that  decision  must  await  the  Strangler's  return  or 
non-return — he  was  plainly  rebellious;  he  had  openly  defied  his 
father's  and  her  authority.  That  this  thought  of  her  own  power 
had  come  to  her  was  inevitable;  authority  always  brings  with  it 
a  certain  arrogance.  So  her  thoughts  turned  instantly  to  re- 
venge. And  as  she  sat  when  the  Emperor  had  quieted  down  and 
gone  to  sleep  after  a  full  dose  of  opiate  from  her  ruby  cup,  she 
sat  looking  at  the  empty  measure  with  brooding  eyes. 

She  had  passed  beyond  the  first  vague  superstitious  alarm 
which  had  beset  her  when  she  had  found  her  luck-cup  had  gone 
out  of  her  life.  She  had,  as  it  were,  reasoned  herself  out  of  it. 
Doubtless,  it  had  been  "  talisman,"  but  the  charm  had  not  been 
hers — hers  only.  It  had  been  something  outside  herself,  and  life 
had  taught  her  that  her  only  safety  lay  in  self-reliance;  that  she, 
and  she  only,  made  or  marred  her  fate.  And  this  recognition 
had  come  home  to  her  with  greater  strength  since  her  father's 
death.  It  had  made  her  colder,  harder  perhaps  to  the  outside 
world,  but  infinitely  more  capable. 

So  she  sat,  brooding  over  the  empty  cup,  fully  resolved  to 
defend  her  position  to  the  uttermost. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  259 

By  refusing  to  come  at  his  father's  request,  Shah jahan  had  done 
more  than  mere  disobedience.  He  had  for  the  moment  wrecked 
all  her  plans.  She  had  intended  that  this  Kandahar  expedition, 
the  first  over  which  she  would  have  entire  control,  untrammelled 
even  by  her  father's  preconceived  and  masculine  ideas,  should 
be  a  success.  And  Shahjahan,  whom  she  had  chosen,  irrespective 
of  his  other  actions,  was,  unquestionably,  the  first  General  of 
the  age.  He  had  failed  her. 

So  the  idea  flashed  in  upon  her  very  soul — why  not  vest  the 
command  in  some  creature  of  her  bidding;  someone  who  would 
be  a  figure-head  to  her  command  ? 

She  had  tried  many  things  in  her  life,  from  cooking  to  states- 
manship, and  in  all  she  had  found  something  in  herself  which 
made  for  success.  Failure  seemed  far  from  her;  she  could 
scarce  credit  its  occurrence  even  in  generalship.  Thus  she  sat 
brooding  over  the  empty  ruby  cup,  until  her  plans  took  form. 

It  was  on  Jahangir's  fifty-fourth  birthday  that  she  announced 
them.  They  were  at  the  spring  of  Vernag,  the  source  of  the 
Jhelum  river.  Here,  when  as  a  Prince  Jahangir  had  first  visited 
Kashmir,  he  had  ordered  one  of  his  "  suitable  buildings  "  to  be 
erected. 

And  suitable  it  was,  and  is,  to  this  day.  An  octagonal  reservoir 
darkly  deep,  reflecting  the  cloistered  walk  surrounding  it,  the 
verdure  of  the  gardens  beyond,  the  blue  of  the  sky  above,  the 
semi-darkness  of  the  domed  ante-rooms  on  each  side.  A  reservoir 
so  clear  that  a  blind  man  at  midnight  could  count  the  grains  of 
sand  at  the  bottom  of  it;  so  clear  that  nowhere  could  the  fishes 
that  swam  in  it  hide  themselves. 

Jahangir  had  spent  the  best  half  of  the  morning  in  watching 
them  shoot  from  every  side  to  the  centre,  if  a  crumb  was  thrown 
into  the  water,  till  they  made  a  rapid  star  of  silver,  and  in  admiring 
the  surpassing  beauty  of  a  water-plant  that  swayed  about  in  the 
ripple,  bearing  flowers  here  and  there,  giving  it  the  appearance  of 
the  variegated  tail  of  a  peacock.  Briefly,  in  all  Kashmir  was  no 
sight  of  more  beauty,  of  such  enchanting  character. 

But  now  it  was  audience-time,  and  there  beside  his  throne 
was  Nurjahan's  filmy-screened  seat.  But  a  few  threads  between 
her  and  that  outside  world  which  held  womanhood  in  such  slight 
esteem. 


260  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

It  is  a  picture  well  worth  preserving  in  the  Gallery  of  Significant 
Recollections.  Imagine  it !  A  hushed  audience  of  big  bearded 
men,  hands  on  the  scabbards  of  their  swords  and  fingers  itching 
to  be  at  the  woman's  throat.  And  she,  supremely  beautiful, 
supremely  capable — so  far  as  history  goes,  blameless  of  all  but 
ambition — the  very  life,  the  soul,  the  informing  power  of  the 
monarch  who  lived  through  and  by  her — a  lovable,  irascible, 
weak,  affectionate  creature  more  like  a  woman  than  a  man. 

So  through  the  cloistered  alleys  the  long-winded  phraseology 
of  the  Shah  of  Persia's  letter  and  the  answer  thereto  echoed 
and  re-echoed.  The  former  pointed  out  how  Kandahar  was  a 
hereditary  fief  of  Persia;  how  in  times  of  misfortune  it  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  Jahangir's  lofty  family,  who,  being  of  the  same 
blood,  were  counted  as  guardians;  how,  from  feelings  of  brother- 
hood, the  Shah  had  awaited  restitution,  thinking  that,  after  the 
manner  of  his  ancestors  who  were  in  Paradise,  the  Emperor  of 
India  would  voluntarily  take  the  matter  into  his  consideration; 
the  more  so  because  the  petty  country  was  not  worthy  of  his 
notice.  It  went  on  with  Persian  verses  to  the  effect  that  the 
ever-vernal  flower  of  cordiality  must  remain  in  bloom,  since 
between  Persia  and  Hindustan  trouble  could  not  exist,  and  naught 
was  possible  but  love  and  trust.  It  ended  by  a  fervent  wish 
that  the  star-brushing  standards  of  the  Emperor  of  all  the  Indies 
might  ever  be  associated  with  the  Divine  aid. 

The  reply,  though  it  carefully  avoided  all  notice  of  the  Shah's 
hereditary  claim  to  the  disputed  province,  was  even  more  dignified 
and  flowery.  It  asserted  that  the  glorious  monarch,  the  star 
of  heaven's  army,  had  without  rhyme  or  reason  disturbed  the  rose- 
garden  of  love  and  friendship;  that  no  mention  had  previously 
been  made  of  any  wish  for  Kandahar,  that  petty  village,  but  that 
on  hearing  of  its  occupation  orders  had  immediately  been  issued 
not  in  any  way  to  transgress  the  pleasure  of  the  prosperous  one. 
Nevertheless,  when  such  steps  were  taken  without  the  return 
of  the  letter-bearing  ambassador,  the  question  must  arise,  to 
whom  will  mankind  ascribe  the  merit  of  keeping  compact  and 
holding  in  trust  the  coin  of  humanity  ? 

It  ended  somewhat  curtly  with  the  bald  wish  that  God  would 
preserve  the  receiver  at  all  times. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  261 

But  it  was  stiff  and  to  the  point.  So,  whether  it  was  woman's 
work  or  man's,  the  hearers  accepted  it  heartily  with  fulsome 
flattery. 

Then  followed  a  brief  outline  of  the  Emperor's  policy.  Since 
Prince  Shahjahan  had  declined  to  obey  the  Emperor's  order 
appointing  him  to  the  supreme  command  in  Kandahar,  that  order 
was  cancelled.  Fresh  ones  had  been  sent  to  say  that  the  Amirs 
and  the  army  generally  were  to  come  north  without  him,  while 
he  himself  might  take  up  a  permanent  residence  wherever  he 
wished,  as  the  provinces  of  Malwa,  the  Deccan,  Guzerat,  and 
Kandesh,  would  be  handed  over  to  his  possession,  in  return  for 
which  hisjaghers  in  the  north  would  pass  to  his  younger  brother 
Shahriyar,  who  had  been  appointed,  in  Shahjahan's  place, 
Commander-in-Chief  of  the  Kandahar  expedition,  the  entire 
cost  of  which  would  be  defrayed  by  Nurjahan  Padshah  Begum, 
who  pledged  herself,  should  necessity  arise,  to  expend  upon  it 
all  the  moneys  she  had  inherited  from  her  father  and  whatever 
else  she  had  acquired  through  Majesty's 'favour  and  indulgence, 
in  order  to  bring  it  to  a  successful  conclusion. 

The  Amirs,  the  Omrahs,  the  courtiers  generally,  stared  at  each 
other  when  Shahriyar's  name  was  mentioned.  He  was  still 
a  lad,  not  yet  out  of  his  teens,  and  weakly  at  that.  Up  till  then 
he  had  not  shown  much  forwardness  in  any  way.  Still,  the  Begum 
had  undoubtedly  made  a  very  sporting  offer,  and  if  someone  of 
experience,  such  as  Rustum  Khan,  who  knew  every  foot  of  the 
way,  were  sent  with  the  boy,  all  might  go  well. 

And  as  for  the  order  concerning  Shahjahan,  it  was  an  in- 
genious method  of  keeping  him  at  arm's  length,  and  not  a  few  of 
the  Court  had  begun  to  look  at  him  askance  over  his  brother's 
sudden  death. 

So  once  more  they  assented  with  fulsome  flattery. 

That  same  evening,  however,  when  Jahangir  came  on  his 
daily  visit  to  the  Empress,  his  mind  was  once  more  running  on 
the  extreme  iniquity  of  Shahjahan's  behaviour.  It  was  mon- 
strous, inconceivable,  without  parallel. 

"  He  will  come  to  evil,  mark  my  word  !"  he  said,  half  between 
tears  and  anger.  "  When,  with  a  father  like  me,  who  am  at 
least  his  ostensible  creator,  and  in  my  own  life-time  have  raised 


262  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

him  to  the  dignity  of  Sultanship  and  denied  him  nothing,  he  acts 
so  badly,  I  appeal  to  the  justice  of  God  that  He  may  never  again 
regard  him  with  favour  !  And  what  is  more/'  he  added  almost 
spitefully,  "  'tis  five  years  since  on  account  of  the  great  regard 
and  abundant  affection  I  had  for  Khurram  and  his  sons — 
especially  Shuja,  who  was  dangerously  ill  at  the  time — I  re- 
solved, if  Providence  would  grant  me  the  child's  life,  that  never 
again  would  I  sport  with  a  gun  or  inflict  an  injury  on  any  living 
thing  with  my  own  hand.  And  all  these  five  years,  despite  my 
love  of  hunting — especially  with  a  gun — I  have  kept  my  promise. 
But  now — now — curse  me  if  I  shoot  not,  just  to  pay  back  his 
unkind  behaviour  !  Ay,  and  no  one  in  the  camp  shall  dare  to 
travel  with  me  without  a  gun  too — and  they  shall  shoot.  Yea, 
they  shall  shoot  at  everything  they  see."  He  paused,  and  added 
with  an  appeased  smile:  "  But  only  God  knows  if  they  will  kill 
aught !" 

And  the  very  next  morning  Jahangir  felt  some  consolation 
for  his  son's  disloyalty  in  once  more  enjoying  the  extreme  pleasure 
of  sport,  and  laughing  at  the  efforts  of  his  courtiers  to  shoot 
straight. 

In  such  ways  he  was  pure  boy. 


CHAPTER  X 

"  In  Life's  long  Ledger,  on  each  passing  page 
Right  deeds  and  wrong  are  written.     When  old  age 
Claims  at  Death's  door  its  earnings,  who  can  say 
Which  Master  has  been  served,  which  gives  the  wage?" 

THE  Imperial  camp  lay  at  Thaneswar,  that  quaint  old  town  of 
sacred  shrines  where,  long  years  before,  the  little  Mihr-un-nissa 
in  her  sleep  had  so  nearly  been  deprived  of  her  plaything,  the 
lacquered  cup. 

And  now,  Empress  of  all  the  Indies,  with  unlimited  power, 
unlimited  resource,  at  her  command,  she  lay  behind  silken 
screens,  in  a  marvellous  tent  of  Kashmir  shawls,  held  up  by  poles 
of  solid  silver-gilt  and  set  with  precious  :.  tones. 

She  had  rested  late,  for  the  last  three  months  had  brought  the 
influx  of  a  thousand  new  anxieties.  The  Emperor's  health  was 
failing  fast.  There  could  be  no  question  but  that  Shajahan's 
behaviour  was  largely  responsible  for  his  father's  sudden  break- 
down. Though  the  latter  still  found  abundant  pleasure  in  the 
chase,  he  was  easily  tired,  and  when  tired  was  apt  to  be  piteous. 
Only  that  very  evening  he  had  come  to  Nurjahan,  his  unfailing 
comforter,  full  of  his  grievances,  and  had  kept  her  from  necessary 
work. 

"  See  you,"  he  had  said,  "  I  write  no  more  with  mine  own  hand 
in  my  Memoirs.  It  shakes  too  much,  so  I  have  desired  Motamid 
to  write  notes,  then  submit  them  for  verification  ere  transcribing 
them  into  my  book.  'Tis  all  my  son's  fault.  Lo  !  I  have  ordered 
that  in  the  notes  he  shall  be  named  '  Disloyal ' ;  nothing  else 
does  he  deserve.  What  affection,  what  interest  have  I  not 
bestowed  on  him  !  My  tongue  fails  in  ability  to  set  them  forth. 
And  now  in  a  warm  climate  that  is  extremely  unsuited  to  my 
health  I  have  to  be  active,  to  ride  and  review  troops.  And  what 
is  worse,  see  you,  is  this  !  His  vileness  hath  deluded  others, 

263 


264  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

and  these  must  I  punish,  though  heretofore  they  have  served  me 
well." 

And  when  Nurjahan,  as  ever,  had  attempted  consolation,  he 
had  gone  on  angrily:  "  Oh,  'tis  well  to  say  'tis  God's  will,  and  I 
thank  my  Creator  that  he  has  given  me  strength  to  bear  my  burden 
and  reckon  it  as  light.  But  what  lays  heavily  on  my  heart  and 
places  my  eager  temperament  in  sorrow  is  this,  that  when  every 
loyal  man  should  be  vying  with  each  other  in  my  service  against 
mine  enemies,  this  inauspicious  disloyal  one  should  have  struck 
as  it  were  with  an  axe  at  the  root  of  his  own  dominion,  and  be- 
come a  stumbling-block  in  the  path  of  the  momentous  affair  of 
Kandahar.  For  it  will  have  to  be  postponed — mark  my  words, 
it  will  have  to  be  postponed,"  he  repeated,  looking  almost  help- 
lessly at  the  woman  to  whom  he  had  given  his  unreserved 
confidence. 

"  It  is  postponed,"  she  replied  quietly. 

And  this  was  the  truth;  for  events  had  marched  quickly  since 
that  peaceful  day  at  the  Vernag  spring.  To  begin  with,  there  had 
been  a  fracas — nay,  more — bloodshed,  between  Shahjahan's 
and  Shahriyar's  agents  over  one  of  the  latter's  jaghirs.  The 
rights  of  the  matter  are  immaterial;  the  result  was  instant 
animosity.  Briefly,  the  fat  was  in  the  fire.  All  the  Emperor's 
passionate  anger  had  been  aroused,  he  had  clamoured  for  im- 
mediate action  against  his  son,  and  as  a  first  step  had  ordered 
Mohabat  Khan,  his  greatest  General,  to  Court.  Mohabat,  a 
wily,  astute  man,  had  replied  that  he  could  do  nothing  so  long  as 
Nurjahan's  brother,  Asof  Khan,  remained  at  hand  able  to  check- 
mate his  moves.  Nurjahan  had  seen  the  justice  of  this  stipula- 
tion. In  her  own  heart  of  hearts  she  saw  that  her  brother  must 
naturally  favour  Shahjahan,  his  son-in-law's  cause.  So  as,  with 
a  view  to  expenses,  Jahangir  had  sent  for  all  the  treasure  in  gold 
and  silver  that  had  accumulated  since  his  father's  time  at  Agra, 
Asof  was  deputed  to  escort  it  thence. 

The  result  might  have  been  foreseen.  News  of  the  treasure 
came  instantly  to  Shahjahan,  who  started  from  Mandu  at  once 
with  the  object  of  intercepting  it.  So  at  least  it  was  said.  This 
had  necessitated  immediate  effort  for  protection.  Hence  the 
journey  southwards  of  the  Emperor  with  a  small  picked  force; 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  265 

a  force,  however,  that  was  joined  on  the  way  down  country  by 
many  contingents.  In  fact,  though  the  march  from  Lahore 
had  been  without  previous  notice — for  time  did  not  admit  of 
delay  or  reflection,  and  there  were  at  first  but  few  Amirs  in  at- 
tendance— before  the  arrival  of  the  camp  at  Thaneswar  such  a 
force  had  come  together  that  in  any  direction  one  looked  the 
plain  was  occupied  by  troops.  Thus  once  more  the  green  wheat- 
fields  of  Kurukshetra  were  trodden  down  by  soldiers'  feet. 

So  Nurjahan  had  her  hands  full.  Yet  still  she  hesitated  to 
take  decisive  steps,  for  old  Phusla  had  not  returned.  It  was  long 
past  his  time;  and  that  might  mean  innocence.  Then  Shahriyar  ? 
She  could  not  gloze  over  his  inefficiency.  And  there  were  no 
children  of  the  marriage,  no  sign  of  one  as  yet. 

It  is  difficult  to  get  at  the  workings  of  a  woman's  mind  when  it 
has  to  deal  with  such  absolute,  yet  unstable,  power  as  this  woman 
possessed.  What  thoughts,  what  aspirations  and  desires  were 
hers  it  is  impossible  to  judge;  but  when  the  tortuous  ways  of 
Eastern  diplomacy  were  over  each  day,  it  is  to  be  guessed  that 
she  was  outwearied. 

On  this  particular  evening  more  than  usually  so;  she  therefore 
dismissed  her  attendants,  all  save  Dilaram — who,  despite  her 
great  age,  still  clung  to  her  duty  of  sleeping  on  the  floor  within 
reach  of  her  mistress's  hand — and  simply  flinging  aside  her  veil, 
lay  down  to  rest  in  the  flowing  white  garments  that  were  still 
her  favourite  dress. 

So  the  light  of  the  little  scented/  jewelled  cresset  that  hung 
from  the  tent-pole  glinted  on  diamonds  and  pearls  still  twined  in 
her  abundant  hair  and  on  the  ropes  of  pearls  about  her  neck. 
The  distant  noises  of  the  camp  filtered  through  the  silken  screens; 
the  singing  challenge  of  sleepy  watchmen  one  to  the  other  broke 
in  on  the  semi-silence.  All  was  peace  and  darkness;  for  the 
"  Lamp  of  Justice  "  swinging  in  front  of  the  Emperor's  tent 
hard  by  threw  but  a  feeble  gleam  across  the  wide  enclosure. 
Someone  yawned,  a  patient  weary  yawn,  and  from  Dilaram's 
quilt-muffled  figure  came  a  gentle  snore. 

What  was  it  that  in  the  darkest  hour  of  the  night  made  Nur- 
jahan sit  up  suddenly  and  listen  ?  She  scarcely  knew.  Not 
Dilaram's  slow  snore,  but  a  faint  chuckling  sound  from  the 


266  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

further  side  of  the  tent.  But  that,  surely,  had  come  after  she 
awoke  ?  Before  that,  what  was  it  ?  Something  that  awoke 
her.  She  waited  for  a  minute,  but  heard  nothing.  Then, 
dissatisfied,  she  rose,  took  the  jewelled  cresset  from  its  stand/ 
and  walked  noiselessly  across  the  tent  with  bare  feet  upon  the 
silken  carpet. 

She  was  a  brave  woman,  but  what  she  saw  made  her  give  one 
startled  cry,  half  checked  by  that  desire  for  silence,  for  secrecy, 
in  which  she  had  learnt  to  look  for  her  surest  weapon.  It  was 
enough,  however,  to  rouse  Dilaram,  who,  half  drunken  with  sleep, 
staggered  towards  the  light.  To  put  down  the  cresset  on  the 
floor,  seize  her  by  the  wrist,  and  gag  her  outcry,  was  a  second's 
work,  but  it  entailed  sinking  to  the  ground  with  her.  So  the 
women's  flouncing  skirts  almost  touched  the  outstretched  arms 
of  a  naked  man  which  still  moved  convulsively  in  a  last  death- 
struggle.  For  a  noose  was  round  his  neck,  a  noose  that  was  fast 
held  by  another  figure  that  lay  behind  him,  a  figure  that,  even 
as  they  looked,  slackened  its  hold,  gave  one  faint  sigh,  and  then 
lay  still. 

"  Phusla  !"  whispered  Nurjahan  hoarsely.  "  Phusla  !  Not 
one  word,  nursie— not  one  word  !  Quick,  the  lamp  !  Let  us 
see  if  he  still  breathes — methinks  he  is  dead — ay,  dead  !" 

The  added  horror  seemed  to  slip  her  by  as  she  knelt  curiously 
beside  the  naked  anatomy  of  the  old  Strangler. 

He  was  quite  dead.  He  had  gone  out  like  a  lamp  in  a  wind, 
killed  doubtless  by  the  effort  to  kill.  And  as  she  knelt  the  full 
meaning  of  his  return  flashed  in  on  her ;  but  old  Dilaram,  grasping 
nothing  save  that  her  ancient  friend  was  gone,  began  to  whimper. 

"  Peace,  woman  !"  said  Nurjahan  in  a  voice  vibrant  with  com- 
mand. "  None  must  know.  And  if  thou  desirest  not  that  the 
old  man  be  held  Strangler  by  all,  take  that  noose  off  yonder 
carrion.  It  hath  done  its  work  surely  !" 

Dazed  with  sheer  horror,  the  old  woman  loosed  the  slip-knot, 
withdrew  the  twisted  silken  rope,  mechanically  coiled  it  up,  and 
thrust  it — as  she  had  done  once  before  at  the  Strangler's  com- 
mand— into  her  capacious  bosom. 

"  None  will  know  now — none  will  know,"  she  muttered,  rock- 
ing herself  backward  and  forward.  But  Nurjahan  saw  further. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  267 

"  They  will  suspect,"  she  whispered  sternly,  "  if  they  find  him 
thus.  Quick  !  Thou  hast  care  of  his  things — his  braided  coat 
— his  badge.  Go  boldly— none  will  challenge  thee  !" 

The  old  woman,  mumbling  away  at  charms  to  keep  off  evil 
between  her  hushed  wail  of  grief,  obeyed,  as  she  had  ever  obeyed 
her  nursling  ever  since  that  day  when  Ghiyass-ud-din,  repentant, 
confused,  overjoyed,  had  given  it  back  to  her  arms  from  the  desert 
where  it  had  been  laid. 

So  Nurjahan,  alone,  crouched  beside  the  dead  men,  the  jewelled 
cresset  by  her  side,  waited  in  silence  for  her  return.  Such  scented 
silence,  holding  so  strange  a  scene  !  The  woman  with  the  light 
showing  her  braided,  gem-set  hair,  the  two  still  forms,  one  so 
peaceful,  the  other  contorted  in  the  last  agony  of  swift  suffocation, 
lying  one  behind  the  other  on  the  silken  carpet.  Phusla's  face, 
worn,  old,  inconceivably  lined,  the  mouth  open,  the  eyes  closed, 
showed  sideways;  the  other's  was  hidden  under  his  arm.  Poor 
loyal — heart-loyal — old  Strangler  !  His  skill,  his  contempt  for 
other's  incompetence,  found  vent  in  her  soft,  half-smiling 
"  Bungler  !"  as  she  drew  her  white  draperies  distastefully  a  shade 
further  from  the  old  man's  last  victim. 

"  Bungler  !"  Ay,  that  was  what  old  Phusla  would  have  called 
him — Phusla  the  Strangler —  ! 

But  how  had  it  come  about  ?  Had  mischance  brought  the 
old  man  to  the  spot  in  time  to  save  her  ? — for  the  Bungler  was 
no  common  thief;  such  carrion  did  not  risk  life  for  a  few  jewels 
when  there  was  loot  and  to  spare  in  less  secure  places.  Or 
had  he  become  aware  of  some  plot  against  her  life — there 
were  so  many  ! — and  led  the  Bungler  on  to  believe  he  would 
help  ? 

There  was  no  fathoming  the  thoughts  or  actions  of  that  mind, 
master  in  its  way.  But  the  question  remained.  Had  the  old 
man  returned  with  a  message,  or  had  he  come  merely  to  save  ? 
She  would  never  know,  for  he  was  dead.  How  peaceful  he 
looked,  this  loyal  old  servant  of  hers,  who  had  dealt  death 
to — how  many  ? 

But  what  was  death  ?  Nothing  !  She  was  not  speculative 
in  mind.  She  was  too  much  enmeshed  in  the  things  of  this  world 
to  think  beyond  it;  but  she  had  read  much,  and  the  words  of 


268  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

the  Bhagavad-Gita,  which  she  had  often  heard  Gosain  Jadrup 
repeat,  recurred  to  her: 

"  Yea  ;  but  we  when  man  layeth 
His  worn-out  clothes  away, 
And  taketh  new  ones,  sayeth. 
'These  will  I  wear  to-day.' 
So  putteth  by  the  spirit 
Lightly  its  robe  of  flesh, 
And  passeth  to  inherit 
A  residence  afresh." 

Certainly,  the  Strangler,  despite  his  many  crimes — ay,  despite 
his  many  virtues — had  slipped  out  of  life  easily  enough  ! 

As  for  other  thoughts,  time  enough  for  them  when  the  immediate 
present  had  passed. 

Dilaram  was  long  of  coming,  but  she  was  old.  Ah,  there  she 
was  at  last !  Between  them  they  could  clothe  the  old  man  to 
some  semblance  of  his  Court  office.  But  after  that 

Stay  !  Fedai  Khan,  now  the  Quarter-master-General.  He  was 
ever  to  be  trusted.  In  a  way  it  was  his  business.  But  to  send 
for  him  in  the  middle  of  the  night  would  be  to  arouse  suspicion. 
She  must  wait  till  dawn. 

"  Peace,  fool !"  she  said  harshly  to  old  Dilaram,  whose  grief 
showed  signs  of  becoming  audible.  "  If  thou  wouldst  save  him 
from  suspicion,  be  still !  See,  take  up  thy  quilt  and  follow  me 
to  my  audience-tent." 

With  the  lamp  in  her  hand,  she  set  aside  the  curtain  dividing 
the  two  and  took  her  place  on  the  cushioned  divan.  So,  one 
elbow  resting  on  her  knee,  the  hand  pressing  her  firm  lips  together, 
she  waited  for  the  dawn,  while  Dilaram,  choking  in  her  sobs, 
fell  after  a  time  into  profound  slumber. 

When  Fedai  Khan  could  be  called  to  the  Presence  without 
fear  of  tattle,  she  would  call  him.  Till  then  she  had  time  for 
thought. 

So  when  Fedai  Khan,  duly  called  through  the  eunuchs  in 
attendance,  appeared,  as  usual  beautiful  to  behold,  spick  and 
span,  perfect  in  salutation,  he  found  the  Empress  ready  with  all 
plans. 

Briefly,  in  private  audience,  she  told  what  had  happened, 
setting  old  Dilaram  at  the  tent-curtain  to  recite  her  morning 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  269 

verses  of  the  Koran,  so  as  to  prevent  outside  listeners  from  over- 
hearing. 

''  The  soil  within/'  she  whispered  finally,  "  is  but  loose  sand. 
A  child  could  scrape  a  grave  for  the  carrion  as  it  lies.  'Tis  but 
to  cover  it;  the  silken  carpet  will  do  the  rest.  Wilt  do  this  for 
thy  mistress,  0  Fedai,  and  forget  thy  nobility  ?" 

Fedai  bowed  low.  "  Nobility  lies  in  service,  Majesty.  It  is 
done/'  and  he  moved  to  enter  the  inner  tent. 

"But  hist!"  interrupted  the  Empress.  "There  is  the  old 
man— Dilaram,  thy  quilt.  Wrap  him  in  it  and  lift  him  to  the 
threshold  of  the  outer  door.  Folk  will  deem  he  died  in  his  sleep 
— dost  understand  ?" 

"  But,  Majesty,"  remonstrated  Fedai  blankly,  "he  hath  been 
away  these  months." 

The  Empress  looked  at  him  coldly.  "  Thou  dost  mistake. 
He  returned  but  yesterday,  and  sought  instant  and  private 
interview  with  me.  As  ever,  I  saw  him;  privately,  mind  you, 
and " 

"  Majesty's  orders  shall  be  obeyed/'  said  Fedai,  bowing 
hurriedly;  there  was  something  almost  appalling  in  this  woman's 
calm  foresight. 

The  Empress  raised  her  voice  as  he  disappeared  into  the  inner 
tent,  drawing  his  broad  tulwar  to  serve  as  shovel.  "  So  the 
camp  moves,  as  I  said,  at  the  third  watch.  Bear  in  mind  the 
order,  and  have  all  in  readiness.  Dost  hear  ?" 

She  paused  for  a  reply,  and  from  within  came  at  once  the 
orthodox  reply:  "  Majesty  shall  be  obeyed  ! " 

So  for  the  space  of  some  ten  minutes  orders  and  answers  were 
given  duly.  Then  Fedai  emerged,  somewhat  breathless;  yet  still, 
as  ever,  spick  and  span. 

"  Thou  hadst  best  call  thy  writer  and  set  down  the  order," 
remarked  Nurjahan. 

"  Majesty  shall  be  obeyed,"  murmured  Fedai  Khan,  wondering 
at  this  woman's  calm. 

So  all  was  in  order,  and  the  eunuchs  and  slave-girls  waiting 
in  the  corridor  discussed  the  sudden  move  sleepily. 

"  Lo  !"  said  one,  a  big  brawny  fellow,  "  I  augured  ill  from  the 


270  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Begum's  hurry.     Can  a  body  not  rest  in  peace  ?     And  she  was 
up  half  the  night  too.     Curses  on  all  womenkind,  say  I !" 

"  Wah  !"  commented  a  pert  slave-girl.  "  That  may  be.  But 
she  dismissed  us  all  early,  and  the  old  porcupine  Dilaram  would 
not  let  us  in  at  dawn,  saying  the  Begum  was  busy.  So  we  be 
not  so  hard  used  as  thou — man-and-no-man  !  Lo  !  'tis  better  to 
be  woman,  say  I !" 

It  was  not  for  a  good  hour  afterwards  that  the  body  of  old 
Phusla  was  discovered  outside  the  back  entrance  to  the  tent, 
just  where  he  was  wont  to  sleep — found  cold  and  stark,  wrapped 
up  in  a  quilt.  "  Why,  'tis  thine  anagdh-jee,"  remarked  a  curious 
maid,  and  Dilaram  with  sobs  told  the  tale  dictated  by  her  mistress, 
of  the  old  man's  late  return  and  how  she  had  loaned  him  her  quilt. 
And  as  her  grief,  till  then  pent-up,  was  genuine,  it  carried  the  tale 
with  it.  Even  the  magnificence  of  the  obsequies  ordered  by  the 
Begum  for  her  faithful  old  servant  did  not  assuage  the  poor  old 
lady's  tears,  though  she  took  undoubted  pride  in  the  amount  of 
sweet-scented  woods  and  oils  that  went  to  the  burning  of  that 
frail  body. 

Nor,  though  the  ashes  were  duly  put  in  a  proper  receptacle, 
and  Nurjahan  promised  to  send  them  safe  to  the  village  in  the 
Deccan  whence  the  Strangler  had  said  he  came,  was  she  content. 
She  sat  weeping  and  shaking  her  wellnigh  bald  head  disconso- 
lately. 

"  Nay,  nay,  Meru  !"  she  moaned,  reverting  to  childish  days. 
"  Thou  meanest  well,  but  none  can  see  to  it  save  I.  Look  you, 
I,  too,  grow  old — nay,  I  am  old  and  past  work  as  he  was.  Yet 
must  my  bones  lie  near  his  ashes,  for,  see  you,  we  .were  as  brother 
and  sister.  So  of  what  use  are  thirty-two  teeth  to  one  rice- 
grain  ?  Better  to  send  us  both  by  one  carrier.  Lo  !  I  can  sit 
in  one  basket  and  he  in  the  other." 

For  all  her  sympathy  with  the  poor  old  soul's  tears,  Nurjahan 
could  not  repress  a  smile. 

"  Thou  wouldst  scarce  balance  with  poor  Phusla's  ashes, 
nursie,"  she  said;  "  but  if  such  be  thy  desire,  thou  shalt  go  in 
state." 

So,  two  days  later,  a  quaint  procession  started  southwards 
from  the  Imperial  camp,  Dilaram  attired  in  scarlet  like  a  bride, 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  2?r 

seated  in  a  spangled  dhooli  which  seemed  too  small  for  her  size 
and  flouncing  garments,  preceded  by  a  bhangy  wallah,  his  bamboo 
yoke  scarce  bent  by  the  weight  of  Phusla's  ashes  in  one  basket, 
balanced  by  the  coolie's  pipe  in  the  other. 

'  3Tis  ever  so  !"  remarked  Dilaram  almost  apologetically. 
"  Were  I  burnt,  which  God  forbid  !  I  should  not  be  so  heavy. 
'Tis  so  with  all  men.  '  If  I  live,  the  world  lives;  if  I  die,  the 
world  dies  !'  " 

And  Nurjahan,  Empress  though  she  was,  felt  that  she  was 
more  alone  than  ever  without  her  two  old  servants. 

That  evening  she  sent  again  for  Fedai  Khan. 

"  Did  they  find  the  carrion  ?"  she  asked  sharply.     "  If  so, 

and  there  was  the  mark  of  the  Noose "     She  paused  in 

evident  regret. 

Fedai  salaamed  as  ever  to  perfection.  "  Majesty  has  no  cause 
for  vexation,"  he  replied.  "  I  cut  the  carrion's  head  off  with 
my  sword  ere  I  buried  it." 

Nurjahan  was  silent  for  a  second.  Then  she  said  coldly: 
•'  Thou  hast  done  well,  Fedai.  Better  than  I,  who  had  hours 
and  hours  for  thought."  Then  she  added  half  to  herself: 

"  Lo  !  I  grow  old,  too  !" 

She  felt  disheartened,  uncertain;  in  a  way  disappointed. 
Phusla  had  returned,  but  had  he  returned  with  a  message? 
Or,  discovering  one  of  the  many  plots  against  her  life,  had  he 
journeyed  back  simply  to  save  her?  She  had  immediately 
caused  inquiries  to  be  made  as  to  whether  the  two  men  had 
been  seen  together,  and  had  traced  them  back  as  far  as 
But  beyond  that ? 

For  if  old  Phusla  had  journeyed  northward  but  one 
alone  she  felt  she  would  have  the  right  to  believe  the  worst  ot 
Shahjahan. 

Yet  when  all  was  said  or  done,  she  knew,  being  no  fool,  that 
when  she  and  Jahangir  were  dead  and  gone,  Shahjahan  was  the 
worthiest  of  all  the  claimants  to  power.  Prince  Parviz  and  Shah- 
riyar  were  alike  unfitted  for  the  throne,  and  even  Prince  Dara 
Buksh,  Khushrau's  eldest  son,  who  had  been  honoured  by  the 
Governorship  of  Guzerat  and  a  handsome  allowance,  did  not 
promise  well. 


272  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

She  was  in  this  curious  frame  of  mind  when  news  came  to  her 
which  changed  the  whole  tenor  of  her  mind. 

After  three  years  of  marriage  a  child  was  to  be  born  to  her 
daughter.  In  an  instant  the  horizon  of  life  altered.  Her  am- 
bition— no  longer  personal,  and  therefore  to  one  of  her  character 
trivial — centred  with  all  the  fervour  of  a  mother  round  the  thought 
of  an  heir  who  would  be  bone  of  her  bone,  flesh  of  her  flesh. 

A  day  or  two  afterwards  the  Emperor  ordered  his  army  to 
put  on  their  chiltas,  or  quilted  coats — in  other  words,  to  make 
ready  for  battle. 


CHAPTER  XI 

"  O'er  Life's  grim  battle  hovers  Victory 
Read}'  with  laurel  wreath.     The  fighters  try 
To  win  her  favour,  while  with  bended  bow 
And  arrow  set.  their  Fate  stands  smiling  by." 

THE  order  came  none  too  soon,  for  Shahjahan  and  his  army 
were  marching  rapidly  on  Delhi ;  with  what  intent  who  can  tell  ? 
Yet  this  is  certain:  matters  had  at  last  come  to  a  crisis. 

It  is  true  that  the  undutiful  son  had,  through  an  envoy,  made 
proposals  to  his  father,  but  these  requests  were,  in  that  father's 
opinion,  so  unreasonable  that  Jahangir  not  only  refused  him 
permission  to  argue  his  point,  but  actually  handed  the  am- 
bassador over  to  Mohabat  the  Generalissimo  to  be  kept  in  prron. 

It  was  a  strong  measure,  and  the  result  was  ill.  Shahjahan, 
driven  to  despair,  fell  in  with  the  advice  of  those  around 
him.  Many  of  these  were  men  of  desperate  fortune,  who  hoped 
to  mend  matters  by  a  civil  war;^but  most  were  those  who  at  all 
costs  wished  to  be  rid  of  a  woman's  power.  Such  men  were 
insidious  in  assuring  Shahjahan  that  his  only  chance  lay  in  im- 
mediate resistance;  that  in  the  same  way  as  he  had  been  dis- 
possessed of  his  northern  provinces,  hisfnew  southern  ones  would 
be  taken  from  him,  when  he  would  be  helpless.  Foremost 
amongst  these  counsellors  was  Rajah  Bickramajeet,  to  whom 
Jahangir,  at  the  request  of  Shahjahan,  had  given  his  title.  A 
Hindu,  and  Brahmin  of  high  caste,  he  had  been  the  latter's 
right  hand  for  years,  for  he  showed  great  talent  as  a  General. 
He  it  was  who  had  captured  Kengra;  indeed,  some  say  that  to 
him  Shahjahan  owed  most  of  his  campaigning  successes.  An 
ambitious,  crafty  man,  his  sole  idea  was  to  place  his  patron  in 
power  as  soon  as  might  be. 

His  voice,  therefore,  was  for  war  at  all  costs.  Yet  still  Shah- 
jahan hesitated;  he  would  indeed  have  been  less  than  human 
had  he  not  remembered  his  father's  kindness,  had  he  not  himself 

273  18 


274  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

felt  a  kindness  towards  that  ood-hearted,  irresponsible,  curiously 
vain,  yet  affectionate  nat  e.  So  he  divided  his  vast  force  into 
three  sections,  and,  re  ining  one  himself,  counter- marched 
some  fifteen  miles  to  th.  east,  leaving  the  others  to  do  as  they 
chose.  Apparently  he  wished  to  avoid  a  battle  himself. 

Meanwhile,  over  in  the  Emperor's  camp,  a  certain  confusion 
was  manifest.  The  decision  to  pursue  the  quarrel  to  the  bitter 
end  came  like  a  clap  of  thunder  on  those — and  there  were  many — • 
who  had  not  yet  made  up  their  minds  which  cause  they  would 
espouse;  the  Begum's  or  Shahjahan's.  For  by  common  consent 
the  battle  lay  between  those  two.  So  men  looked  at  each  other 
suspiciously.  And  Mohabat  Khan,  the  Generalissimo,  was 
overbearing.  A  big  burly  man  with  a  henna-dyed,  purple-black- 
edged  beard;  a  bigoted  Mahomedan  to  whom  woman  was  in  all 
ways  the  creature  of  man.  During  Ghiyass-ud-din's  lifetime  he  had 
taken  orders  from  him,  glozing  over  Nurjahan's  part  in  making 
them.  If  one  man  was  fool  enough  to  obey  a  woman,  that  was 
not  his  business.  Now,  entrusted  with  the  task  of  defeating 
the  disloyal  one,  he  brooked  little  interference.  Still,  when, 
amongst  others  accused  by  him  of  favouring  Shahjahan's  cause, 
Fedai  Khan's  name  was  put  forward,  the  Empress  protested. 

"  On  whose  report  ?"  she  asked  defiantly. 

"  Abdullah  Khan's  ?"  she  echoed.  "  What  warranty  have  we 
for  his  loyalty  ?" 

"  What  warranty  ?"  echoed  Jahangir  in  his  turn,  somewhat 
helplessly.  "  Sure,  dearest,  he  is  second  in  command.  Mohabat 
trusts  him  utterly.  He  hath  command  of  the  vanguard.  Who- 
ever he  selects  to  join  his  corps  he  gets  at  once.  He  marches 
a  mile  ai.ead  of  all  the  other  forces.  He  is  entrusted  with  the 
intelligence  department  and  the  selection  of  routes.  Is  not  that 
enough  ?  Besides,  each  day  he  brings  to  me  long  written  strips 
of  news  which  his  spies  have  sent  him  from  the  disloyal  one's 
camp.  In  them  Fedai's  name  was  certainly  apparent." 

Nurjahan's  beautiful  eyebrows  met  in  a  frown.  Now  that 
poor  old  Phusla  had  gone,  she  could  not  be  so  sure  of  her  own 
information.  The  tribe,  it  is  true,  still  worked  for  her;  but  it 
was  for  pay,  and  she  was  wise  enough  to  discredit  much  of  the 
bought  news.  Yes,  truly,  she  was  more  alone  than  she  had  been. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  275 

Still,  her  courage  did  not  fail  her.  By-and-by,  ere  long,  she  would 
have  something  of  her  own  flesh  and  blood  by  her,  something 
for  which,  indeed,  to  fight.  No  mother  could  have  looked  for- 
ward to  that  coming  child  with  more  hope,  more  tenderness, 
than  did  this  grandmother. 

So  she  possessed  her  soul  in  patience.  "  Lo  !  my  lord,  think 
for  thyself,  and  be  not  led  away  by  other  minds.  Yea,  bethink 
thee  !  Last  week,  was  not  Khalil  denounced  ?  the  day  before 
yet  another  of  thy  servants  ?  Wouldst  thou  not  have  sworn 
both  men  faithful  ?  Have  a  care  lest,  led  away  by  intrigue, 
thou  shouldst  destroy  thy  friends  at  the  bidding  of  thine  enemy." 

Jahangir  looked  alarmed.  "  Dost  hold  Abdullah  false,  then  ?" 
he  asked. 

"  I  say  not  so,"  replied  Nurjahan.  "  Yet  if  he  is,  'tis  better 
he  should  not  suspect  our  suspicion.  The  time  is  not  one  for 
the  removing  of  a  veil  openly  from  evil  deeds,  therefore  continue 
to  show  him  all  attention.  But  for  Fedai  Khan !  Lo  !  I, 
Nurjahan,  hold  him  my  hostage;  the  dust  of  his  sincerity  is  pure." 

And  Jahangir  was  satisfied.  Over  in  Abdullah  Khan's  tent, 
however,  there  were  gnashings  of  teeth* 

"  The  hell-doomed  woman  is  too  sharp  for  us,"  muttered  the 
traitor-in-chief,  Abdullah.  "  We  must  go  softly,  since  she 
suspects.  But  I  would  we  had  decapitated  Fedai  and  some 
others  ere  the  battle  came.  They  are  too  faithful,  too  brave  !" 

So,  after  a  day  or  two  the  battle  did  come.  It  was  ere  day- 
break that  a  messenger  came  to  the  leader  of  the  vanguard, 
bringing  him  as  a  special  mark  of  favour  Jahangir's  own  quiver, 
with  a  request  that  its  possession  might  animate  his  zeal.  Fedai 
Khan,  who  was  standing  by,  not  a  button  or  a  buckle  ajee  in 
all  his  glorious  panoply  of  war,  muttered  into  his  twirled  mous- 
tache: "  'Twere  better  to  make  sure  first  for  whom  he  fights." 

But  Mohabat  was  too  busy  making  dispositions  to  think  of 
aught  else. 

It  was  a  fine  body  of  25,000  horsemen  that  the  Generalissimo 
had  in  his  grip  that  March  morning  on  the  sandy  plain  to  the  west 
of  Delhi.  Far  as  the  eye  could  reach  as  the  sun  rose,  the  level 
beams  sparkled  on  chain  armour  and  lances  and  the  bright  trap- 
pings of  the  lean,  eager  little  Indian  horses  that  were  never  for 


276  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

one  instant  still,  yet  never  moved  a  hair's  breadth  from  their 
station.  About  their  feet,  showing  the  tense  quivering  of  their 
small  hoofs,  lay  a  little  cloud  of  dust  that  turned  to  gold  in  the 
sunrays,  while  the  pennons  and  flags  seemed  piled  one  upon  the 
other^  against  the  primrose  of  the  dawn. 

Abdullah  Khan,  long,  thin,  dark,  sitting  his  horse  as  if  he  were 
glued  to  it,  was  at  the  head  of  his  contingent  of  ten  thousand; 
as  fine  a  body  of  men  as  India  could  show.  Close  at  his  side  rode 
Fedai  Khan,  beautiful  to  behold,  on  a  grey  Arab.  But  the  hand- 
some face  was  stern,  and  the  eyes,  lustrous  as  those  of  a  woman, 
never  left  Abdullah's  face  for  a  moment.  Behind  him,  again, 
rode  the  Syyeds  of  Barha;  a  loyal  race  this,  to  whom  treachery 
even  to  an  enemy  was  unconceivable.  Fedai  was  responsible 
for  their  being  in  the  vanguard;  otherwise,  not  one  of  them 
would  have  consented  to  follow  "  Lanat-ullah,"  or  the  "  Curse 
of  God,"  as  the  common  folk  styled  Abdullah.  But  there  they 
were,  small,  hawk-eyed,  active,  like  the  birds  of  prey  after  whom 
they  had  named  their  ancestral  home  the  "  Falcons'  Nest." 

As  the  dawn  grew,  Abdullah's  face  grew  dark. 

"  Hath  the  messenger  not  returned  ?"  he  said  anxiously  to  a 
favourite  henchman.  The  man  shook  his  head,  and  the  com- 
mandant of  the  vanguard  bit  his  lip  and  looked  over  to  the  dis- 
tance, where  two  faint  clouds  on  the  horizon  showed  that  the 
enemy  was  awaiting  the  onslaught. 

What  was  in  front  of  him?  Bikramajeet's  division,  or 
Darab's  ?  On  that  hung  much.  And  yet,  if  the  worst  came  to 
the  worst,  it  ought  not  to  be  difficult  to  distinguish  friend  from  foe. 

Hark !  The  kettledrums  of  Empire !  In  a  second  every 
horse  was  as  a  statue.  Again  the  wild,  rolling  call,  and  like 
an  arrow  from  a  bow  each  flung  itself  forward. 

The  charge  had  begun. 

On,  on,  right  up  to  the  very  line  of  the  enemy,  and  then  from 
thej  mouth  of  almost  every  horseman  of  the  ten  thousand  rose 
up  theory: 

"  Friend  I    Friend  !" 

Fedai,  riding  hard  at  Abdullah's  heels,  rose  in  his  stirrups. 

"  Traitor  !"  he  cried,  and  delivered  a  swinging  blow  at  the 
head^before  him.  But  the  grey  Arab  swerved  and  the  next 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  277 

moment  he  was  trying  to  guard  his  own  from  the  furious  onslaught 
of  the  foe. 

"  Deen  !  Been  !  Fateh  Mahomed  !  A  Barha  to  the  rescue  !" 
shouted  the  Syyeds,  and  with  them  the  whole  hundred  or  so  of 
loyalists  whom  Fedai  had  brought  with  him.  Then  came  battle 
indeed  ! 

For  no  matter  what  Abdullah's  treachery,  these  men  of  Shah- 
jahan's,  under  the  generalship  of  Darab,  had  no  news  of  it,  so 
they  fought  what  they  deemed  the  foe  right  fiercely.  At  first, 
at  any  rate,  for  that  small  knot  of  loyalists  firmly  planted  the 
foot  of  courage  and  gave  no  countenance  to  half-heartedness. 
Yet  disaster  was  close  at  hand.  One  by  one  the  combatants 
fraternized,  turned,  and  made  for  the  nearest  real  fighter.  But 
the  horses  were  not  as  the  men;  they  could  not,  would  not, 
change  their  colours  in  the  thick  of  the  fight.  No,  not  even 
though,  breathless  with  hot  haste,  Rajah  Bikramajeet  himself 
rode  upon  the  scene  bellowing,  "  Hold,  enough  !"  So  for  a  few 
more  minutes  the  uproar,  the  confusion  lasted,  and  one  and  yet 
one  more  loyalist  went  down  by  sheer  weight  of  numbers.  Then 
for  one  second  all  seemed  lost.  Fedai,  who,  with  the  courage 
of  real  loyalty,  had  risked  even  his  reputation  by  swift  return  to 
hurry  up  reinforcements,  would  have  been  too  late.  Then  it  was 
that  a  chance  shot  from  a  matchlock  caught  Bikramajeet  between 
the  eyes,  and  he  fell  dead  without  a  cry.  It  was  a  signal  for  re- 
treat. His  followers  hesitated;  the  pillars  of  their  courage  shook. 

Ere  they  could  regain  their  dash,  ere  they  could  steady  them- 
selves, Mohabat's  troops  were  on  them. 

The  battle  was  brief.  Discomfited,  disorganized,  scarcely 
able  to  discern  friend  from  foe,  the  rebels  broke  and  fled. 

And  as  Lanat-ullah,  the  "  Curse  of  God,"  otherwise  Abdullah 
Khan,  rode  in  hot  haste — with  a  slash  from  Fedai's  sword  on  his 
right  shoulder — to  join  Shahjahan  he  cursed  his  luck.  Why  had 
Darab's  division  been  opposite  the  new  guards  ?  Why  had 
Darab  not  received  his  message  of  treachery  ?  Why  had  not 
Bikramajeet  given  him  warning  ? 

But  there  was  one  good  thing — the  hell-doomed  dog  of  a 
Hindu  was  dead.  Now  he,  Abdullah,  Lanat-ullah,  call  him  what 
you  will,  would  have  a  fair  field  with  the  heir  apparent. 


278  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Shahjahan,  however,  did  not  view  the  death  of  his  right-hand 
servant  in  the  same  light.  Whether  from  regret  or  remorse,  he 
refused  further  fight  at  the  time,  and  retired  westwards. 

Yet  even  in  the  Emperor's  camp  the  times  were  critical.  The 
defection  of  Abdullah  Khan  had  raised  many  questions  of  loyalty: 
Some  made  excuse  to  leave,  and  some  returned  also  with  excuses. 
And  both  the  one  apology,  and  the  other  had,  as  the  Emperor 
put  it,  "  to  be  bought  as  if  genuine." 

For  the  whole  country  was  in  a  flame.  So,  after  a  while 
negotiations  for  peace  were  staited  in  both  camps,  and  finally 
Mohabat  Khan,  as  Generalissimo,  entered  into  a  treaty  with  the 
discomfited  yet  still  strong  Shahjahan  to  the  effect  that  no  further 
steps  should  be  taken  against  him,  if  he  would  consent  to  retire 
to  Mandu  and  disband  his  army.  In  which  case  his  provinces 
and  estates  would  be  restored  to  him. 

To  this  Shahjahan  consented,  and  for  the  time  peace  was  re- 
stored; so  the  Emperor  and  the  Empress,  nothing  loath,  retired 
to  Ajmere,  there  to  await  the  coming  of  the  child,  which  for  the 
time  being  absorbed  all  Nurjahan's  thought  and  cares;  Mohabat 
meanwhile,  with  Prince  Parviz,  and  a  large  army,  going  southward 
on  pretence  of  watching  the  disloyal  one  keep  his  promises. 
But  Fedai  Khan,  who  was  now  almost  the  only  reliable  friend 
the  Empress  had,  shook  his  head  and  augured  ill  of  the  expedition. 

"  May  it  please  Majesty,"  he  said  urbanely,  with  his  most 
perfect  salutation,  "  the  cunning  of  Mohabat  Khan  would  in- 
struct the  devil !" 


CHAPTER  XII 

"  The  wakeful,  ode-rehearsing  nightingale 
Sang  to  the  fading  roses,  wan  and  pale  ; 
But  like  strung  beads  on  the  Beloved's  arm 
The  rosebuds  showed  above  the  leafy  veil." 

NURJAHAN  and  Jahangir  sat  once  again  on  the  terrace  over- 
looking the  great  lake-reservoir  at  Ajmere. 

And  once  again  a  little  child  filled  their  eyes,  their  thoughts; 
but  it  was  a  babe,  almost  new-born.  It  lay  in  the  sunshine 
upon  a  satin  quilt  on  Nurjahan's  lap,  naked  save  for  a  wee  muslin 
shift,  delicate  as  gossamer,  with  fine  stitching,  and  a  quaint, 
peaked  cap  of  golden  tissue  fringed,  as  with  hair,  by  brown  silk 
and  little  clusters  of  seed-pearls.  A  fat  morsel  of  a  babe,  not 
purple-red,  as  are  Western  infants,  but  cream-coloured,  with 
ochre  shadows,  and  heavy  black  brows  and  eyes;  all  the  heavier 
for  the  antimony  painted  round  them  to  keep  o'ff  evil,  envious 
glances.  Jahangir,  bent  and  broken,  his  hair  tinged  with  grey, 
his  breath  at  all  times  coming  somewhat  laboured,  leant  over 
the  two.  His  face  was  radiant. 

"  We  will  call  her  Arzani,  wife,"  he  said,  "  since  she  hath 
come  in  answer  to  our  prayers.  And  she  is  ours — ours  only  ! 
My  son  and  thy  daughter  !  The  Gifted  Lady  !  Yea,  we  will 
call  her  so,  seeing  that  it  telleth  both  ways — that  she  is  God- 
given,  and  that  Fate  hath  gifted  her  with  all;  for,  see  you,  she  is 
the  very  spit  and  image  of  her  grandmother.  Lo  !  so  must 
thou  have  looked  when  thou  layest  in  thy  mother's  arms  at 
first." 

Nurjahan's  face — it  was  still  extraordinarily  beautiful  despite 
her  five  and  fifty  years — hardened  a  little. 

"  Yet  did  she  and  my  father  leave  me  to  the  desert  for  being 
female,"  she  replied.  "  And  my  lord  too,  he  would  rather  it 
had  been  male."  She  looked  up  to  see  his  face,  but  it  smiled 
back  at  her. 

279 


a8o  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

"  Not  I  !"  he  laughed.  "  At  first,  mayhap,  the  old  idea  came 
to  me;  but  now — dear  heart,  when  we  are  dead  she  will  live  to 
keep  alive  thine  image."  Then  his  smile  faded.  "  Besides  .  .  . 
it  is  little  Chamni  ove'r  again  !  "Pis  being  here,  where  she  found 
the  Garden  of  Paradise,  that  hath  made  me  think  of  her  so  much, 
lately;  but  her  small  grave  drew  me  till  this  one  came.  So 
'tis  thou  only  who  art  disappointed." 

Suddenly,  with  an  almost  passionate  denial  of  his  words, 
Nurjahan  strained  the  sleeping  infant  to  her  breast,  and  her  face 
grew  almost  exultant. 

"  I — nay,  my  lord,  there,  thou  art  mistaken  !  True,  I  wished 
a  boy;  but  now  the  girl  hath  come,  I  see  what  Fate  decrees. 
Yea,  she  will  be  like  me — but  more  fortunate — more  beloved — 

"  More  beloved  ?"  echoed  the  Emperor  in  a  hurt  tone.  "  That 
thou  canst  not  be.  Truly,  0  Meru,  I  have  loved  thee " 

She  turned  to  him  tolerantly.  "  Yea,  yea,  my  lord  !  Thou 
hast  given  me  more  than  I  deserve."  How  could  she  tell  him  that 
his  best  was  not  hers  ?  "I  meant  but  that  she  should  not  have 
so  many  enemies  as  I " 

"  Enemies  !"  he  echoed  again,  this  time  angrily.  "  Thou  hast 
none  that  are  not  mine  also.  But  have  comfort,  dear  heart ! 
This  very  morn  have  I  received  a  missive  from  Mohabat.  The 
disloyal  one,  being  now  worsted,  hath  finally  fled.  So  there  is 
no  more  need  for  anxiety,  he  writes,  from  the  rebels:  '  willingly 
or  unwillingly  the  rulers  of  the  Deccan  are  performing  their  due 
of  obedience  and  submission,  therefore  Majesty  may  make 
his  mind  at  ease  about  that  quarter,  and  enjoy  himself  in  hunting 
and  travelling  in  whatever  place  in  the  royal  dominions  of  which 
he  may  approve,  and  which  is  good  for  his  health.'  So  what  say 
you,  dearest,  to  Kashmir  ?  Do  !  My  heart  leaps  at  the  very 
thought  of  it." 

But  Nurjahan's  eyes  had  narrowed;  something  in  the  Generalis- 
simo's report  had  struck  her. 
"  What  means  he  by  '  now  '  ?"  she  asked  quickly.     "  Hath 

there  been  more  fighting  ?     I  wist  not "     She  interrupted 

herself  quickly.  "  This  last  month  or  more  I  have  been  bound 
up  in  other  things.  Lo  !  Gladness  was  so  ill — the  child's  life 
was  in  danger,  and  so — and  so "  She  passed  her  hand  over 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  281 

her  forehead  as  if  to  sweep  away  such  trivialities.,  and  asked 
again:  "Surely  there  hath  been  no  more  fighting — all  was 
arranged " 

Jahangir  coughed  somewhat  uneasily. 

"  Ay,  but  Mohabat  thought  it  best  to  strike  while  the  iron  was 
hot "  he  began. 

Nurjahan  was  in  a  flame  in  a  second.  "  Mohabat !"  she  echoed. 

"  Who  is  he  ?  What  right  hath  he ?  Besides,  he  made  the 

treaty " 

Jahangir  looked  relieved.  "  Ay,  dearest,  that  is  so;  and  there- 
fore he  had  the  right  to  act.  Beside — no  harm  was  done.  The 
disloyal  one  escaped  the  net  that  was  laid  for  him — ay,  and 
Lanat-ullah  also,  and  the  only  one  that  hath  paid  the  penalty 
is  the  dog  of  a  Hindu  that  was  ever  shaking  the  chain  of  enmity 
and  perversion  !  So  fret  not  thyself  over  a  broken  treaty  ! 
Lo  !  Mohabat  is  wise  in  his  measure,  and  he  hath  managed  the 
thing  well — he  and  my  son  Parviz.  Lo  !  he  is  nigh  as  fortunate 
as  Khurram  was  in  the  old  days " 

The  Empress's  eyes  were  keenly  on  the  Emperor's  sallow, 
kindly  face,  and  she  turned  the  subject  abruptly. 

"  Ay,  truly  fortunate,"  she  said  briefly.  "  Wast  successful 
in  the  chase  this  morning  ?" 

Jahangir  succumbed  in  a  second.  "  Did  I  not  tell  thee  ?"  he 
replied  delightedly.  "  As  thou  knowest,  the  huntsmen  brought 
word  of  a  tiger,  but  after  entering  the  forest  three  others  became 
visible.  Having  killed  all  four,  I  returned  hitherwards.  'Tis 
strange  the  liking  I  have  for  tiger-shooting;  when  I  can  get  it 
I  go  not  after  other  sport.  So  it  was  also  with  Mahmud  of  Ghazni. 
Many  stories  are  told  of  his  deeds.  Once  a  very  large  tiger, 
enraged  with  pain,  got  on  the  elephant's  back;  but  the  Amir 
knelt  down  and  struck  him  such  a  blow  with  his  sword  as  cut 
off  both  his  forefeet,  so  that  he  fell  backwards.  Yet  when  I  was 
Prince  I  did  better.  The  same  thing  happened,  but  I  had  no 
time  to  seize  my  sword.  So  I  clubbed  the  matchlock  and  dealt 
him  such  a  shrewd  blow  on  the  head  with  it — but  there  !  'Tis 
not  manners  to  talk  about  oneself,  so  I  will  restrain  my  tongue 
and  go.  God  be  with  you  both,  dearest." 

She  looked  after  him  pitifully  as  he  walked  away,  bent  and 


282  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

worn  and  old;  yet  still  full  of  memories  of  olden  strength;  yet  still 
happy  when  he  was  with  her — still  happy — so  must  he  be  ever  ! 

After  he  had  gone  she  sat  cuddling  the  child,  looking  out  with 
almost  vacant  eyes  over  the  shining  levels  of  the  lake  to  the  blue 
Aravelli  hills. 

Yes,  for  the  present,  till  the  child  grew  up  in  her  likeness, 
the  first  object  of  her — Nurjahan's — life  must  be  the  Emperor's 
health.  To  that  all  else  must  bow.  Shahjahan's  rebellion  was 
scotched  for  the  moment;  by  what  unfair  means  she  could  not 
stop  to  consider,  though  the  thought  of  them  made  her  burn 
with  anger  against  Mohabat.  What  Fedai  had  said  of  him  was 
true.  He  could  instruct  the  devil  in  cunning.  Still,  for  the  time 
he  was  rounding  up  rebellion,  and  making  matters  smooth. 

So  her  thoughts  passed  to  the  immediate  future.  A  holiday 
in  Kashmir  !  A  holiday  with  the  child  ! 

How  true  was  the  saying:  "  No  woman  is  a  mother  till  she  is 
a  grandmother."  She  sat  basking  in  the  sunshine,  dreaming 
as  any  woman  might  do,  forgetful  even  of  her  power,  until  the 
infant  began  to  cry;  then  she  laughed  aloud  at  its  effort  to  suck 
her  finger,  and  clapping  her  hands,  summoned  the  servants, 
who  sat  discreetly  behind  screens,  but  within  call. 

Then  leisurely,  her  long  white  garment  trailing  on  the  white 
marble  path,  she  passed  by  the  fountain-set  aqueducts  to  the 
palace,  followed  by  a  tribe  of  attendants  carrying  fans  and  essence- 
boxes,  and  Heaven  knows  what  luxuries  of  all  sorts  and  kinds. 
But  she  had  forgotten  them  in  the  child. 

So  had  not  the  child's  mother,  who  lay,  still  languid,  in  the 
darkest  corner  of  a  stuffy  little  side  room.  She  was  a  tall,  thin 
woman,  no  longer  quite  young,  and  not  in  the  least  like  her 
mother.  But  she  had  an  honest,  good,  truthful  face. 

She  scarce  took  notice  of  the  babe,  which,  after  it  had  been 
duly  suckled  by  its  wet  nurse,  was  brought  to  her  pillow.  There 
it  lay  content,  as  its  grandmother  had  lain  content  after  her 
first  draught  of  camel's  milk.  But  its  mother's  eyes  were  on 
the  sunshine  beyond  the  narrow  strip  of  room. 

"  Ah,  amma-jdn,"  she  said  suddenly,  impulsively,  to  Nur- 
jahan,  whose  eyes  were  on  the  child.  "  Have  I  not  done  my  part  ? 
The  babe  is  there  for  thee,  now  let  me  go  !  As  thou  knowest, 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  283 

I  had  foresworn  the  married  life.  I  was  canoness.  Did  I  not 
say,  even  as  a  child,  that  I  cared  not  to  have  a  husband  ?  Yet 
did  I  obey  thee.  Thou  didst  not  think  of  me,  mother,  it  was  the 
child  that  I  should  bear.  Well !  I  have  borne  it.  "Tis  pity  'tis 
not  a  son;  but  it  is  clean  and  healthy,  and  that  is  much — con- 
sidering  "  She  paused,  and  her  plain  face  hardened  into 

lines  of  positive  beauty  as  she  went  on  resolutely:  "  But  I  have 
done  my  task.  Shahriyar  hath  other  women — let  them  bear 
him  sons  !" 

Her  bitterness  was  concentrated  into  calm,  and  Nurjahan  as 
she  listened  felt  herself  condemned.  It  was  true  what  her 
daughter  said.  In  making  this  marriage  she  had  thought  mostly 
of  her  own  plans;  yet  her  daughter  had  raised  small  objections 
— she  had  not  protested 

"  Thou  hast  not  been  unhappy,  child  ?"  she  said  with  sudden 
unwonted  tears  in  her  eyes. 

Gladness  smiled  gently.  "  None  could  be  unhappy  with  thee, 
mother,  and  he  hath  not  troubled  me — much.  But,  see  you, 
my  task  is  done.  Thou  art  content  with  the  child;  I  see  it  in 
thine  eyes.  Therefore  I  will  return  to  my  father's  people,  where 
I  have  lived  all  these  years " 

"  There  was  no  choice,  daughter,"  began  Nurjahan.  Before 
this  simple  woman  she  felt  herself  defenceless. 

"  None,  mother,"  assented  her  daughter,  "  after  thou  hadst 
made  thy  choice." 

And  Nurjahan  made  no  answer.  What  was  the  use  of  trying 
to  explain  her  action  ?  Both  women  and  men  were  against 
her.  So  she  took  the  sleeping  infant  from  the  pillow  and  said 
gently : 

"  I  take  it  as  thy  gift,  daughter,  clean  and  wholesome  and 
healthy,  as  becomes  the  descendant  of  Ali  Kul,  honourable 
gentleman.  Never  child  shall  be  loved  more  than  this  child. 
Thou  hast  done  thy  task  well,  and  thou  shalt  have  freedom." 

In  a  way,  she  told  herself,  it  was  as  well.  Shahriyar — what 
was  Shahriyar  ?  Something  to  keep  the  throne  warm  for  the 
child,  that  was  all.  Something  to  keep  her — Nurjahan — in 
power  for  the  time  should  unkind  Fate  decree  that  Jahangir 
should  not  survive.  But  he  must.  The  defection  of  his  favourite 


284  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

son  had  tried  him  much;  this  must  be  minimized  to  the  utter- 
most. For  the  time  being  Mohabat  and  Prince  Parviz  must  be 
allowed  a  free  hand  despite  the  opposition  of  her  brother,  Asof 
Khan.  Curious;  but  she  never  felt  she  could  trust  the  latter, 
despite  her  affection  for  him  as  the  only  surviving  member  of 
her  family.  Still,  he  was  able,  and  the  ordinary  government 
of  the  Empire  went  smoothly  and  well. 

A  month  or  so  later  saw  the  Imperial  camp  starting  for  Kashmir. 
It  marched  leisurely,  as  usual,  but  the  winter  snows  had  hardly 
melted  from  the  Pirpanjal  Pass  when  they  arrived  at  it.  Still, 
it  was  their  favourite  entrance  to  the  Enchanted  Valley,  so  they 
braved  the  difficulties  with  an  advance  guard  from  the  main 
body.  And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  on  a  brilliant  April  morning 
Jahangir  and  Nurjahan,  well  wrapped  up  in  furs,  sat  looking 
once  more  down  the  long  valley  that  leads  from  the  pass  to  the 
lovely  levels  of  their  Pleasant  Land.  Despite  their  ages,  they 
were  both  young  in  heart,  so  it  is  small  wonder  that  the  atmosphere 
of  their  content,  clouded  with  the  faint  mist  of  coming  tragedy, 
still  lingers,  for  those  who  know  their  story,  in  every  stone, 
evety  turn  of  the  rocky  path  they  trod  so  often  hand  in  hand. 
They  had  come  to  the  first  vantage-ground  whence  the  Kashmir 
Plain  is  visible,  and  there,  descending  from  their  dhoolis,  they 
rested  for  the  midday  halt.  A  small  shamianah  tent  had  been 
erected,  but  it  was  warmer  in  the  sunshine,  so  cushions  had  been 
spread,  backed  by  a  rock,  and  there  they  reclined  with  the 
Gifted  Lady,  now  a  fine  strapping  babe  of  eight  months  old, 
the  very  joy  of  their  hearts,  fast  asleep  between  them,  showing 
as  a  mere  bundle  of  white  Astrachan  fur. 

For  a  long  time  they  did  not  speak.  The  scene  vras  too  en- 
thralling. Below  them  in  the  shallow  rocky  ravine  a  stream, 
that  overnight  had  been  a  roaring  torrent  through  the  melting 
of  the  snows  during  the  hot  day,  now  gurgled  as  gently  as  any 
sucking-dove  amid  its  boulders.  On  either  side  of  it  lay  snow- 
streaks  leaving  the  browned  grass  in  deep  toothed  recessions 
to  the  on-coming  hosts  of  spring  flowers,  advancing  so  boldly  that 
their  foremost  leaders  cropped  up  amidst  the  snow  itself.  Such 
gay,  reckless  leaders  !  A  rose-pink  primula  without  a  petal 
astray,  a  blue  gentian  looking  as  if  it  had  grown  in  a  glass  case, 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  285 

and,  velvety  in  purple  and  gold  a  mountain  heartsease,  lifting 
up  its  face  fearlessly  to  the  heavens.  Beyond  this,  inundated, 
lapped,  almost  overwhelmed,  by  blue  morning  mist,  spur  after 
spur  of  rock,  of  pine-clad  slopes,  seeming  almost  to  rise  out  of 
the  one  wide  blue  cloud  that  lay  further  and  further  towards  the 
blue  sky,  until,  sharp  and  clear,  glistening  in  the  sunlight  like 
diamonds,  showed  the  eternal  snows. 

Jahangir's  hand  sought  and  found  Nurjahan's,  and  his  haggard 
face  looked  wistfully  into  hers. 

"  Thou  hast  been  happy  yonder  with  me  full  oft,  dearest," 
he  said.  "  Is't  not  so  ?" 

And  her  whole  heart  went  out  to  him  in  protecting  affection 
as  she  smiled  back  her  answer. 

"  Full  oft,  my  lord — and  never  more  so  than  now  !" 

His  sudden  laugh  of  gladness  rang  out  among  the  rocks  and 
amid  the  flowers  that  nestled  at  their  feet. 

"  Ay,  that  is  good  to  hear;  and  true  likewise.  And,  see  you, 
I  have  a  strange  tale  to  unfold,  that  I  kept  for  thy  hearing  till 
we  were  in  this  very  place.  Last  night,  as  I  returned  from  hunt- 
ing, the  stream  yonder  over  the  pass  was  mighty  swollen  with 
the  melted  snows.  The  bed  was  rocky,  the  water  running 
tumultuously.  One  of  the  servants  was  carrying  my  huntsman's 
relish — thou  knowest — the  gold  tray  with  three  gold  cups  of 
wine  with  covers — all  held  on  a  wadded  coverlet.  Well,  his 
foot  slipped  in  the  pool,  and  the  salver  fell  from  his  hands  into 
the  water,  but  though  they  searched  and  better  searched  no 
trace  of  it  could  be  found.  Being  unwilling  to  lose  my  old 
companions,  I  commanded  another  search  this  morn,  and  by  good 
chance,  in  the  very  place  where  it  had  fallen,  it  was  found;  and, 
more  strange  still,  it  had  not  been  upset,  neither  had  a  drop  of 
water  got  into  the  cups.  They  were  still  full  of  good  Shiraz. 
'Tis  little  short  of  miraculous  !  So  I  commanded  that  they  be 
brought  here  for  thee,  for  me,  and  for  the  child  to  drink 
prosperity — nay,  happiness — during  our  stay  in  this  Pleasant 
Land  !" 

He  clapped  his  hands  as  he  spoke,  and  a  servant,  duly  prepared, 
brought  forth  on  the  instant  the  little  golden  salver  and  the  three 
covered  golden  cups  of  the  huntsman's  relish.  They  were  marvels 


286  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

of  delicate  workmanship,  each  showing  adventures  of  the  Emperor 
in  the  chase. 

"  The  child  will  not  relish  her  portion,  my  lord/'  said  Kurjahan 
gaily.  "  Mayhap  my  lord  had  better  drink  the  two." 

"  Fie  upon  thee  !"  retorted  the  Emperor  as  gaily.  "  Dost 
tempt  me  to  exceed  ?  Nay,  we  will  pour  the  child's  portion  on 
the  ground.  Sure,  there  must  be  some  life  in  it  to  give  life  to 
so  many  flowers,  and  good  wine  holds  all  things — yea,  life  and 
death — in  it.  Does  not  the  poet  say: 

'"  Lo  !  'tis  God's  earth  that  nourisheth  the  vine, 
His  sun  ripens  the  grape,  His  years  the  wine. 
Drink  then,  O  Pilgrim  !  'Tis  no  poison-cup  ; 
It  holds  a  sacrament  of  care  divine  '  ? " 

So  with  light  heart  and  hand  he  poured  the  wine  out  upon  the 
ground,  then  drank  his  own  portion  to  Happiness. 
"  And  Health  !"  put  in  Nurjahan  fondly. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

"  The  tulips,  love,  showed  red  when  spring  was  nigh, 
Yet  red  and  gold  the  leaves  that  withered  lie. 
Naught  can  surpass  the  glory  of  decay  ; 
Heaven  send  it  may  be  autumn  when  we  die." 

A  WHOLE  year  and  a  half  had  passed  since  the  golden  goblets 
of  the  hunter's  relish  had  toasted  health  and  happiness  on  the 
Pirpanjal  road;  and  both  these  gifts  had  come.  After  a  summer 
in  Kashmir,  the  Court  had  moved  only  as  far  as  Lahore;  then,  as 
the  hot  weather  approached  once  more,  had  flitted  back  to  the 
Pleasant  Land.  The  enforced  rest — for  after  all,  Kashmir  is 
too  small  a  province  for  much  marching — and  the  cool  bracing 
climate  of  both  it  and  Lahore  during  the  winter,  had  wrought 
wonders  in  the  Emperor's  health;  and  though  he  still  fretted  and 
fumed  over  his  eldest  son's  rebellion,  he  had,  with  Mohabat  and 
Prince  Parviz's  help,  got  so  much  the  better  of  the  disloyal  one 
that  he  could  afford,  for  the  present,  to  disregard  him  as  an  actual 
enemy;  and  being  of  a  forgiving  nature,  he  was  not  anxious  for 
revenge.  During  these  eighteen  months  the  affairs  of  the  Empire 
had  gone  on  with  fair  smoothness;  and  as  Jahangir  had  given 
orders  that  no  defective  people — that  is  to  say,  those  who  were 
blind,  or  who  had  lost  arms,  or  legs,  or  noses,  or  ears,  and  no  sick 
folk  of  any  kind — should  be  permitted  to  come  near  his  camp, 
he  had  nothing  to  vex  his  soul.  All  was  beauty  and  pleasure. 
The  little  "  Gifted  Lady,"  now  two  years  old,  was  a  delight,  and 
Nurjahan,  as  ever,  the  one  human  being  to  whom  he  had  given 
his  unreserved  confidence. 

And,  in  truth,  despite  her  years,  she  was  in  a  way  more  lovable 
than  she  had  been  as  a  younger  woman;  for  she  was  softer. 
The  child  had  taught  her  much.  To  a  great  extent  she  had 
become  absorbed  in  it  and  her  dreams  for  its  future.  Then  the 
doings  of  Mohabat  Khan  and  Prince  Parviz,  far  away  in  the  south, 
were  too  remote  to  rouse  her  interest  greatly,  despite  the  fact 

287 


288  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

that  Asof  Khan  did  his  best  to  inflame  her  against  the  former. 
Here  he  was  backed  by  Fedai  Khan,  who,  nevertheless,  more 
than  once  came  to  her  with  tales  of  perfidy  closer  at  hand.  These 
she  hesitated  to  credit,  for  Asof  was  her  only  brother,  and  she 
could  not  believe  him  absolutely  false  to  her.  That  he  would 
fain  have  Shahjahan  forgiven  she  knew,  and  condoned.  He 
could,  in  his  position,  scarce  think  otherwise. 

So  the  months  had  passed,  bringing  few  excitements.  The 
whole  country  northwards  was  gradually  settling  down,  and  one 
by  one  the  recalcitrant  Amirs  and  noblemen  were  coming  in  to 
seek  forgiveness.  And,  as  Jahangir  writes,  in  the  majority  of 
cases,  "  in  order  to  please  and  satisfy  Nurjahan,  the  pen  of  pardon 
was  drawn  through  the  record  of  their  faults." 

Thus  matters  stood  in  the  early  autumn,  when,  on  the  usual 
slow^return  over  the  Pirpanjal  Pass  to  a  Panjab  winter  at  Lahore, 
the  Imperial  camp  halted  amid  the  saffron-fields  at  Pampur.  A 
quaint  spot  this,  built  on  the  curious  plain  which  lies  above  the 
level  of  the  Kashmir  valley  proper,  below  the  southern  slopes  of 
the  outermost  range  of  the  encircling  hills.  A  plain  that  is  cut 
through  into  long  fingers  every  few  miles  by  such  abrupt  ravines 
that  it  seems  as  if  the  hand  of  man  must  have  excavated  them  as 
a  defence  to  the  flat  fields  above,  so  perpendicular,  so  absolutely 
unclimable,  are  they.  And  right  up  to  the  very  edge  of  this  cliff 
grows  the  flowering  saffron. 

Viewed  from  the  hills  above,  the  karewa-\a,nd,  as  it  is  called, 
shows  like  a  purple-gloved  hand  stretched_out  over  the  green 
fields  below. 

And  it  was  autumn.  The  plane-trees  were  aflame,  their  white 
branches  showing  skeleton-wise  amongst  the  dense^rich  russet. 
So  were  the  cherry-trees,  and  in  lines  along  the  water-courses  in 
the  valley  the  willows  began  to  gleam  golden. 

A  marvellous  bit  of  colour  truly,  with  the  blood-red  stamens  of 
the  saffron  standing  clear  above  the  tangled  mass  of  lilac  petals 
and  silvery  stems. 

The  beauty  of  it  was  sufficient  to  go  to  Jahangir's  head,  with- 
out the  aromatic  flowers  "  that  scented  the  brain,"  or  the  cups 
of  good  Shiraz  that  he  drank  as  he  lay  among  the  blossoms  on 
a  coverlet  of  gold  and  silver  tissue.  Every  atom  of  him  was  simply 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  289 

steeped  in  delight,  and  he  watched  the  little  "  Gifted  Lady  "  as 
she  buried  her  fat  hands  in  the  basket  full  of  the  dried  stigmas 
the  contractor  had  brought  for  his  inspection,  with  a  keen  ap- 
preciation of  the  perfect  picture  she  made;  for  the  child  was — 
at  least  outwardly — the  very  image  of  her  beautiful  grandmother, 
saving  for  the  dimple.  Jahangir  would  often  remark  on  this, 
and  assert  his  pleasure  that  he  had  kept  something  for  himself 
alone.  He  was  fond  of  such  sentimental  ideas,  and,  when  in 
the  mood,  would  embody  them  in  somewhat  halting  rhymes. 

He  made  one  that  morning,  and  repeated  it  to  Nurjahan, 
who,  as  ever,  listened  with  smiles. 

"  From  head  to  foot,  where'er  I  look, 
A  glance  plucks  at  the  heart's  skirt,  saying, 
'  This  is  the  spot  for  pleasant  lot, 
For  wine  and  roses,  love  and  playing.'  " 

"  Nay,  my  lord  !"  criticized  Nurjahan  archly.  "  It  should  be 
'  saffron/  not '  roses  ';  it  scans  as  well." 

Jahangir  looked  doubtful.  "  Ay,  but  who  ever  heard  of 
saffron  in  a  couplet  ?  though,  to  be  sure,  being  aphrodaisiac,  it 
hath  to  do  with  love " 

"  Say  not  so,  my  lord  !"  she  interrupted  quickly.  "  Sure,  love  is 
different — it  hath  so  many  faces.  There  is  a  father's  love " 

She  had  not  meant  to  touch  the  sore,  but  he  shrank  in  a  second. 
"  Ay,  and  what  reward  hath  it  ?" 

"  Hark  !"  put  in  the  Empress  to  change  his  thought.  "  There 
is  the  jingle  of  a  hurkdru — and  yonder  he  comes,  the  sun  slight 
upon  his  hoo'poe's  plume  !  What  news  bringeth  he  ?  I  trust 
pleasant «ones,  to  suit  the  place." 

"  More  like  unpleasant,"  grumbled  the  Emperor. 

And  half  an  hour  afterwards  he  sat  looking  at  the  letter  he 
had  received  by  special  messenger  with  a  half  smile,  half  frown; 
for  it  brought  both  bad  and  good  news.  It  told  of  Shahjahan's 
serious  illness,  of  his  compunction  for  having  rebelled  against  his 
father,  and  his  earnest  desire  to  be  reconciled  to  him  on  any 
terms.  It  was  written  after  partial  recovery,  and  was  couched 
in  most  repentant  words. 

The  quick  tears  came  into  Jahangir's  eyes.  There  could  be 
no  question  as  to  his  love  for  his  !son.  Yet,  as  ever,  he  was 
irresolute,  and  looked  to  the  Empress  for  support. 

19 


29o  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

"  He  deserves  it  not !"  he  said  almost  apologetically.  "  And 
yet,  dearest,  thou  knowest  how  I  have  grieved  for  him.  And 
I  grow  old.  "Tis  the  duty  of  the  old  to  forgive  the  young,  and 
he  had  evil  counsellors:  the  dog  of  a  Hindu  who  hath  gone  to 
hell,  and  Lanet-ullah  who  yet  awaits  damnation — God's  curse  on 
them  both !  But  Khurram !  When  he  was  a  little  lad — I  mind — 

The  Empress  had  been  sitting  looking  out  over  the  purple 
crocus-fields  idly.  She  was  of  those  whose  minds  are  quickly 
made  up.  In  a  flash  she  saw  what  this  would  mean  to  the  man 
whose  life  was  her  chief  care — and  she  had  begged  forgiveness  for 
others,  possibly  as  guilty;  besides,  with  care,  it  might  mean 
nothing  in  the  future.  So  she  spoke  conclusively,  calmly: 

"  My  lord,  seeing  that  he  is  penitent,  should  forgive  his  offences. 
Nay,  more  !  If  my  lord  were  to  write  the  letter  with  his  own 
hand,  'twould  be  best.  Yet " — her  mind  always  travelled  fast 
— "  seeing  also  that  his  fault  is  grave,  'twere  better  should  we 
impose  sureties.  He  should  send  his  sons  to  my  lord  as  hostages 
— they  would  be  well  received  and  maintained  " — she  paused 
and  hesitated — "  for  the  rest,  let  my  lord  consult  my  brother. 
He  is  devoted,  as  my  lord  knows,  to  the  Prince,  and  will  suggest 
nothing  amiss." 

It  was  all  done  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  but  Jahangir's 
relieved,  almost  grateful  look  was  sufficient  to  prevent  any  regrets 
or  second  thoughts. 

"  Of  a  truth,  dearest,"  he  replied,  "  thou  art  right.  We  will 
enforce  penalties,  but  forgive  freely.  Ay,  and  he  shall  have  all 
the  Deccan  as  his  own  province.  So  that  is  settled.  Cup- 
bearer, another  goblet  of  wine.  I  will  drink  to  his  entire  re- 
covery." 

That  same  evening  Nurjahan,  holding  a  long  rambling  letter 
in  her  hand,  was  wondering  whether,  had  she  perused^it  first,  she 
would  have  been  so  ready  in  her  decision.  It  was  a  much  delayed 
letter,  written  to  the  dictation  of  one  Dilaram,  deceased.  The 
news  of  her  death  down  in  Bundelkhand  had|already  reached 
the  Empress  through  those  appointed  to  pay  her' pension;  but 
this  apparently  was  a  farewell  which  had  been  committed  to  a 
friend's  care,  and  been  delayed. 

Beyond  high-sounding  phrases  and  pathetically  plain  allusions 
to  her  own  imminent  decease,  there  was  not  much  in  it  save 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  291 

these  words:  "This  dust-like  one,  already  treading  the  path  of 
annihilation,  hath  naught  but  gratitude  to  send  save  this:  it 
hath  been  great  solace  at  last  to  find  relatives  of  Phusla  deceased 
— may  God  pity  him  ! — whose  real  name,  they  say,  was  the  '  Fat 
One.'  (Mayhap  he  was,  as  a  babe,  though  mothers'  eyes  are 
blind  to  truth.)  They  helped  weep  on  proper  occasions,  and  ate 
much,  since  the  uninvited  guest  cometh  ever  with  a  big  platter. 
Yet  thanks  to  generosity  there  was  ever  enough.  It  seemeth 
that  Phusla — may  many  tears  water  his  ashes  ! — lodged  with 
them,  and  they  lament  always  that  he  left.  But  he  would  take 
none  with  him,  neither  would  he  remain,  saying  ever  that  he 
must  keep  his  promise  to  his  mistress  ere  he  died.  Truly  a  snake 
goeth  ever  crooked  to  his  hole,  and  a  righteous  man  straight  to 
his  duty." 

She  sat  and  looked  at  the  words  which  supplied  information 
she  had  hitherto  sought  in  vain,  with  a  dull  wonder  as  to  whether, 
after  all,  it  made  much  difference.  In  her  heart  of  hearts  she — 
and  many  others — had  always  believed  that  Shahjahan  had 
been  responsible  for  his  brother's  death,  though  she  had  never 
openly  declared  her  opinion.  And  she  would  not  do  so  now, 
though  she  would  plot  harder  than  ever  to  keep  the  offender  out 
of  his  heritage. 

That  was  to  be  Shahriyar's — and  after  him,  the  child's — her 
child,  who  was  to  be  like  her,  but  more  fortunate — yes,  more 
beloved  ! 

Asof  Khan,  after  consultation  with  the  Emperor,  came  on  to 
see  her,  his  relief  and  delight  showing  visibly  in  his  fat  face. 
He  was  now  nigh  sixty  years  of  age,  but  the  years  had  given 
him  little  dignity.  He  was  still  oleaginous  and  somewhat 
pompous. 

Nurjahan  listened  to  his  lengthy  periods,  showing  how  he  had 
safe-guarded  her  interests  by  demanding  the  surrender  of  certain 
fortresses. 

"  And  in  exchange  ?"  she  £-->ed  briefly. 

Asof  became  more  pompous.  "  The  promise  of  the  whole 
Deccan  as  his  fief,"  he  replied  somewhat£defiantly.  "  Since  it 
was  ever  Majesty's  plan  to  keep  him  at  a  distance." 

"  Ay  !"  she  replied  curtly.  "  The  further  the  better  for  my 
plans."  Then  suddenly  she  laughed.  "  Lo !  brother/'  she 


29 2  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

continued, "  wherefore  should  I  seek  to  bring  a  murderer  to  Court  ? 
Shrink  not !  Thou  knowest  as  well  as  I  that  Khushrau  died  by 
poison.  I  say  not  that  'twas  Shahjahan's  act,  but  he  was  his 
brother's  keeper — ay,  and  by  his  own  urgent  wish.  Therefore 
he  comes  not  to  wheedle  his  father  while  I  am  here — mark  that  ! 
For  the  rest — art  satisfied  that  the  Emperor  acts  of  his  own 
free-will  in  this  ?" 

Asof  Khan  had  stood  helplessly  dumbfounded  at  the  suddenness 
of  her  attack,  to  which  he  had  indeed  no  counter  save  bold 
protestation.  Therefore  he  mumbled  something,  to  confuse  the 
issues,  about  Mohabat  and  the  breaking  of  the  last  treaty. 

Nurjahan's  brows  met  in  instant  anger.  "  True  !"  she  broke 
in.  "  Such  must  not  occur  again.  And  methinks  both  Parviz 
and  Mohabat  have  had  too  free  a  hand  for  safety,  the  latter 
specially.  He  also  is  best  at  a  distance.  Therefore  send  him  to 
the  Governorship  of  Bengal,  and  bid  Parviz  to  Court.  The 
Emperor  is  in  full  train  to  love  him  as  much  as  he  loved 
Khurram." 

She  flung  the  remark  at  her  brother  almost  as  if  it  had  been  a 
gibe,  and  anger  showed  on  his  face  also. 
"  And  if  he  comes  not  ?"  he  said. 

"  Then  we  shall  have  two  disloyal  ones,"  she  replied  recklessly, 
"  and  yet  another  chance  for  Shahriyar!  Oh,  brother,  brother  !" 
she  added  bitterly;  "  if  thou  couldst  but  trust  a  woman — but 
thou  and  thy  like  canst  not.  Still,  in  this  have  I  played  a  man's 
part — ay,  better  than  most  men  !  But  see  that  those  orders 
be  carried  out,  and  at  once." 

So  she  dismissed  him;  but  she  sent  for  writers,  and  far  on  into 
the  night  sat  at  work,  looking  into  things  which  for  eighteen 
months  she  had  allowed  to  slide  more  or  less.  And  as  the  re- 
ports were  read  to  her  a  cloud  grew  to  her  face.  Ay,  truly, 
Fedai,  and  even  Asof  had  been  right.  Mohabat  Khan  and  Prince 
Parviz  had  been  having  too  much  of  their  own  way;  but  now 
that  another  temporary  peace  hrd  been  patched  up  between 
Shahjahan  and  his  father,  it  was  time  to  bring  them  to  book: 
aiore  especially  Mohabat,  who  appeared  not  to  have  accounted 
properly  for  large  sums  which  had  been  forfeited  by  rebels. 

It  did  not  do,  she  told  herself,  to  let  loose  the  reins;  she  would 
hold  them  more  firmly  in  future. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"  The  millions  sleep  ;  but,  with  hushed,  weary  sound 
The  Wheel  of  Life  spins  ever  round  and  round, 
So  when  the  Dawn  comes  THAT  which  was  is  not  ; 
Kings  are  but  slaves,  and  slaves  that  were  are  crowned." 

THE  winter  had  passed  at  Lahore  without  bringing  much  of 
importance  save  that  Prince  Parviz  had  remonstrated  against 
his  father's  order  to  send  the  Generalissimo  Mohabat  Khan  to 
Bengal;  he  could  not,  said  the  Prince,  be  spared.  Whereupon, 
instead  of  instant  anger,  as  after  Shahjahan's  similar  disobedience, 
the  Emperor  and  his  advisers  had  contented  themselves  with 
a  sharp  reprimand  and  a  more  stringent  order  that  Mohabat  be 
immediately  told  to  repair  to  Court,  unattended,  in  order  to  ex- 
plain certain  deficiencies  in  his  accounts.  So  far  Asof  Khan 
had  succeeded  against  his  old  and  bitter  enemy.  The  rest  he 
left  to  chance,  to  Nurjahan's  implacable  sense  of  discipline,  and 
Jahangir's  still  uncontrollable  temper. 

Thus  matters  stood  when  the  question  of  a  move  to  a  cooler 
climate  came  with  the  approaching  hot  weather.  And  here 
Jahangir,  rather  to  the  Empress's  surprise,  plumped  for  pastures 
new;  not  that  he  was  tired  of  the  Pleasant  Land,  but  Nurjahan 
had  never  seen  Kabul,  and  he  would  like  to  show  her  its  beauties, 
and  once  more  visit  the  graves  of  his  ancestors.  Besides,  the 
country  had  been  newly  settled,  and  he  thought  it  right  to  over- 
look the  arrangements. 

So,  instead  of  branching  hillwards  after  the  Chenab  river 
was  crossed,  the  Imperial  camp  went  on,  in  stately  march,  up 
the  Great  Trunk  road,  which  even  then  led  from  Patna  to  Pe- 
shawur.  It  was  along  this  road  that  Jahangir  had  ordered  the 
building,  every  ten  miles  or  so,  of  caravanserai  to  afford  safe 
resting  to  travellers.  In  many  places  they  exist  to  this  day; 
wide  squares  of  cloisters  with  bastion  quarters  for  the  better  folk 
beside  the  high  arched  gateway.  But  the  Imperial  camp  was 

293 


294  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

pitched  right  away  on  the  hard  level  white  plain  dotted  with  grey 
caper-bushes;  for  it  covered  many  acres  of  ground. 

It  moved  on  in  very  lordly,  very  deliberate  fashion,  for  the 
country  round  was  full  of  antelope  and  partridge,  nilghai,  and 
bustard. 

So  the  Emperor  was  happy;  but  one  evening  he  burst  in  upon 
Nurjahan's  afternoon  hour  in  a  towering  temper. 

It  was  on  a  piece,  he  said,  with  the  universal  lack  of  propriety, 
the  universal  slackness  of  manners,  and  it  gave  weight  to  his 
suspicions  that  Mohabat  Khan  was,  at  heart,  a  rebel;  an  idea 
ever  fostered  by  Asof  Khan. 

He  was  so  breathless  with  his  anger  that  the  Empress  feared 
an  attack  of  his  enemy,  asthma,  and  ordered  a  goblet  of  good  wine 
at  once;  for  experience  had  shown  her  that  a  certain  measure  of 
excess  often  warded  off  trouble.  And  in  this  case  it  succeeded, 
though  it  seemed  to  increase  his  irritation.  Mohabat  Khan,  it 
appeared,  without  asking  permission  to  do  so — which  was  tanta- 
mount to  an  insult — had  actually  married  his  daughter  to  a 
young  nobleman  of  the  Court !  Unheard  of  impudence,  intoler- 
able lack  of  common  decency  !  If  that  was  his  notion  of  loyalty 
and  proper  behaviour,  he,  Jahangir,  would  refuse  to  allow  him 
an  interview  (in  other  words,  would  put  upon  him  the  greatest 
disgrace  possible  to  inflict  on  a  man  of  his  rank  and  status). 
And  as  for  the  young  man,  he  had  had  his  punishment  already  ! 
He  had  been  well  bastinadoed  in  the  audience-tent  ! 

"  Yet  if  he  be  true  lover  !"  put  in  Nurjahan  indifferently. 

The  Emperor  was  within  his  rights,  and  her  sole  desire  was 
to  soothe  his  wrath. 

"  True  lover  !"  echoed  Jahangir,  almost  turning  his  anger  on 
her.  "  If  he  be  true  lover,  could  he  not  wait  ?  Did  not  I  wait 
long  years  ?  Was  I  guilty  of  vulgar  breach  of  manners  ?  Did 
I  cast  etiquette  to  the  winds  ?  But  'tis  not  a  question  of  etiquette 
only.  Mohabat  hath  forgotten  himself.  They  report  he  cometh 
with  over  two  thousand  Rajputs  to  his  bodyguard — and  I  bid 
him  come  alone.  Yea,  verily,  I  will  do  as  Asof  Khan  counsels — I 
will  refuse  to  see  the  wretch " 

So  he  went  on  until  the  opium  which  he  took  regularly  had 
effect,  and  he  slept.  Nurjahan,  vexed  as  she  ever  was  at  anything 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  295 

which  disturbed  the  Emperor's  calm,  told  herself  that  the  incident 
had  but  precipitated  matters,  since  Mohabat  would  have  had, 
anyhow,  to  learn  a  lesson. 

The  next  day  saw  the  camp  on  the  banks  of  the  River  Jhelum, 
close  to  the  bridge  of  boats  by  which  on  the  morrow  the  long 
procession  of  baggage  animals,  and  troops,  and  camp-followers 
would  file  across  to  take  up  their  position  on  the  opposite  bank. 
At  least,  this  would  have  been  the  ordinary  procedure,  but  that 
day,  owing  to  the  narrowness  of  the  bridge,  which  would  make 
crossing  almost  a  single  file,  As  of  Khan  ordered  that  the  maior 
part  of  the  army  and  the  spare  tents  should  cross  by  daylight. 
So  all  day  long  the  bridge  creaked  and  groaned  under  a  slow  pro- 
cession of  camels  and  carts,  and  little  bodies  of  horsemen,  the 
pennons  on  whose  lances  showed  clustered  against  the  sky-line. 
And  all  day  long  cries  and  unavailing  shouts  and  the  resounding 
thwacks  on  unwilling  oxen  told  the  depth  of  the  sand  on  the  river- 
road.  They  cut  down  the  tufts  of  river-bed  grass  and  strawed 
them  on  the  way,  but  the  result  was  poor;  the  bullocks  strained 
and  the  blows  fell  as  ever. 

About  sunset-time,  however,  the  turmoil  died  down.  Practi- 
cally the  whole  camp  had  crossed,  leaving  nothing  but  the  royal 
tents  behind,  and  these  but  scantily  guarded.  Yet  as  dusk 
came  on  the  spiked  tops  of  the  tiger-grass  that  grew  in  tufts  on 
that  sandy  river-land  showed  like  the  spear-points  of  watching 
pickets.  A  sand  haze,  still  golden  with  a  reflection  of  sunset, 
lay  over  the  wide  plain,  and  out  of  it  the  purple  and  red  and  gold 
tents  rose  like  some  dream  vision  from  a  cloud.  Above,  the  sky 
was  darkening  to  purple,  and  in  the  west  hung  the  evening  star. 
Then  slowly  out  of  the  dust  haze  rose  another  star,  as  the  Lamp 
of  Justice  swung  to  its  place,  marking  where  the  Emperor's 
tent  stood. 

It  was  a  still  calm  night.  You  could  hear  over  the  wastes  of 
sand  and  water  the  distant  noise  of  many  voices,  the  hum  of  a 
great  camp  hushed  to  a  murmur  that  blent  with  the  rushing 
swish  of  the  deep  stream  that  lay  close  at  hand. 

A  gong  chimed  midnight  from  the  royal  enclosure,  and  one  of 
the  sleeping  four  who  watched  at  the  bridge-head  rose  and 
echoed  it  on  his  gong. 


296  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

A  crescent  moon  showed  now,  and  by  its  faint  light  vague 
shadows  could  be  seen  flitting  among  the  tufts  of  grass;  and 
suddenly,  with  one  long  wail,  the  jackals'  cry  rose,  clamoured  to 
wild  chorus,  and  fell  again  to  silence. 

"  God  send  there  be  no  more  than  jackals  this  night !" 
murmured  one  of  the  four  with  a  yawn.  "  What  ailed  them  all 
to  cross  in  such  a  hurry  ?  'Twas  not  by  Quarter-master-General 
Fedai  Khan's  order,  that  I  know,  for  I  heard  him,  ere  he  left  to 
mark  out  the  new  camp,  telling  the  Deputy  all  was  to  be  as 
usual." 

"  Ballah !"  responded  a  still  sleepier  sentry.  "  All  is  well. 
They  say  Mohabat  is  but  ten  miles  off,  and  he  hath  two 
thousand  Rajputs  with  him — so  they  say.  Guard  enough, 
in  conscience  !" 

He  was  asleep  almost  ere  he  finished,  and  silence  reigned 
once  more.  Within  the  royal  enclosure,  which  screened  off 
the  common  outside  world,  Jahangir  and  his  women-folk  slept 
secure,  ignorant  even  of  the  fact  that  they  were  unguarded. 

Twelve— one — two — three  struck  on  the  gong,  struck  sleepily, 
and  were  echoed  sleepily  from  the  bridge-head.  It  was  nigh 
time  for  the  last  jackal  call;  near  time  for  dawn.  Was  it  the  pack 
gathering  that  swayed  the  tiger-grass  tops  ?  Or  were  those 
real  spears  which  showed  higher  than  the  rest  ? 

A  faint  jingle  as  of  a  bridle  broke  the  sleepful  silence.  It 
was  followed  by  a  low — 

"  Hist,  brother  !    No  more  till  we  have  the  bridge  !" 

The  warning  was  reiterated  adown  a  file  of  horsemen. 

A  minute  later  there  was  a  faint  scuffle,  but  not  a  cry,  not  a 
moan.  The  feeble  bodyguard  was  overpowered,  and  men, 
flinging  themselves  from  their  horses,  began  *to  cut  the  ropes 
that  bound  the  boats  together  with  their  swords. 

"  Four  or  five  is  enough  for  now/'  came  the  low  voice.  "  So  ! — 
pitch  the  roadway  planks  to  the  river  and  let  the  boats  drift." 

It  did  not  take  long;  a  few  minutes  and  the  oily,  sliding  stream 
flowed  uninterrupted  for  fifty  yards  or  more.  No  one  would 
recross  the  bridge  that  night. 

"  Pass  the  word  back  that  all  is  secure,"  said  the  commandant 
of  the  advance  guard;  and  then  he  laughed  low  and  long.  "  We 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  297 

have  him  neatly  trapped.  Now  may  Mohabat  make  good  the 
rest — as  he  will." 

And  Mohabat  was  already  on  the  way  to  make  it  good. 
Followed  by  fifty  or  sixty  of  his  picked  men,  he  was  at  the  door  of 
the  Emperor's  tent,  guided  thereto  by  the  Lamp  of  Justice. 
Once  within  it  in  the  warm,  scented,  luxurious  air  that  contrasted 
so  strongly  with  the  crisp,  fresh  night  air  outside,  even  he  paused. 
The  Emperor  lay  asleep — in  a  drugged  sleep — on  a  low  divan 
guarded  by  but  two  drowsy  courtiers.  They  were  awake  in  a 
second,  protesting. 

But  Mohabat  was  firm;  he  meant,  he  said,  to  see  the  Emperor 
— he  would  take  no  denial — he  intended  no  harm  to  the  royal 
person;  but  he  had  trapped  him  and  he  meant  to  keep  him  as 
hostage  for  fair  treatment. 

A  bold  step  indeed,  and  one  that  could  scarce  be  parried. 
By  this  time  orders  for  the  rest  of  the  bridge  to  be  burnt  had  been 
given,  and  a  dejected  little  group  of  camp-followers  were  watching 
its  destruction.  How  the  dry  boats  and  the  bamboo  stanchions 
and  railings  crackled  and  flamed  till  they  touched  the  water, 
all  aflame  with  the  reflection  from  above,  so  that  the  sudden  hiss 
and  splutter  as  fire  met  water  seemed  inexplicable,  mysterious. 

And  then  as  the  lashings  gave  way,  and  boat  after  boat,  charred 
to  the  water-line,  broke  away  to  float,  still  glowing,  down  stream, 
converging  towards  each  other  in  the  perspective  till  they  lay 
massed,  sending  out  sparks  against  the  western  horizon,  the 
spectators  held  their  breath  at  the  novelty,  the  beauty  of  the 
sight. 

Meanwhile  in  the  tent  Mohabat  Khan  had  roused  the  Emperor. 
At  first,  still  drowsy  with  opium,  the  latter  had  sat  up  confused. 
Then  perception  dawned  upon  him,  and  he  was  on  his  feet  in 
an  instant,  his  hand  on  the  drawn  sword  that  ever  lay  beside 
him. 

"  Mohabat  !  Traitor  !  What  means  this  ?"  he  cried  furi- 
ously. 

Mohabat  drew  back.  There  was  never  any  questioning 
Jahangir's  courage  or  his  fiery  temper.  So,  in  an  instant,  the 
Generalissimo  was  on  his  knees  kissing  the  ground;  but  behind 
him  stood  his  bodyguard,  nonchalant  yet  ready. 


298  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

"  Highness  !"  whispered  one  of  the  two  courtiers,  who,  seeing 
nothing  for  it  but  restraint,  were  standing  by,  sword-hand  on 
sword-hilt,  ready  if  need  be  to  defend  their  liege  lord  with  their 
lives,  "  your  slave  entreats  you  to  be  patient — the  sword  is  the 
last  resource  of  true  majesty." 

The  appeal  was  crafty;  it  roused  Jahangir's  remembrance  that 
he  was  the  Shadow  of  God  upon  earth,  and  restored  his  dignity. 

"  How  darest  thou  !"  he  began  sternly. 

"  This  slave  dares  all  to  make  his  sovereign  see  the  truth," 
put  in  Mohabat.  "  Let  him  listen  but  for  once,  then  strike  his 
servant  dead.  Lo  !  I  seek  protection  at  the  hands  of  the  Emperor  ! 
Protection  from  the  machinations  of  Asof  Khan — and  others." 

"  And  others  ?"  queried  the  Emperor  sharply.  "  Speak  plain  ! 
Whose  ?" 

Mohabat  gave  one  sharp  glance  round  at  his  Rajputs. 

"  Asof  Khan  and  his  sister " 

"  Dog  of  an  infidel !"  shouted  Jahangir.  "  Dost  dare — die  ! 
Wretch  !" 

And  once  again  the  sword  rose  and  flashed. 

"  For  the  sake  of  God,  sire  !"  whispered  the  other  courtier  in 
Turkish,  "  leave  punishment  to  Him.  This  is  a  time  for 
wisdom." 

And  once  again  the  sword-arm  dropped. 

"Thou  shalt  have  protection — ay,  though  thou  beest  the  most 
hell-doomed  rascal  in  existence,"  said  Jahangir;  "  but  what 
wantest  thou  now  ?" 

"  The  Emperor's  palki  stands  at  the  door,"  replied  Mohabat 
hardily.  "  I  ask  that  he  come  with  me  and  show  the  world 
that  I  am  forgiven.  'Tis  dawn-time,  and  the  populace  expect 
him.  Or  if  the  Emperor  prefer,  there  is  my  horse." 

"Thy  horse  !"  flamed  out  Jahangir.  "  Wherefore  thy  horse  ? 

Order  mine  own,  slave;  and "  He  paused  and  looked  down 

on  his  attire.  "  I  cannot  show  myself  in  these.  I  go  first  to 
change  my  garments."  And  he  made  a  move  towards  the  tent 
corridor  which  led  to  the  women's  apartments,  to  Nurjahan, 
who  stood  ever  betwixt  him  and  the  world. 

But  Mohabat  was  before  him,  barring  the  entrance.  "  Not 
so,  my  lord.  The  Emperor  needs  no  more  than  the  dignity  of 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  299 

kingship  to  cover  him — or,  if  he  feel  the  cold,  there  are  coats 
here  and  to  spare." 

He  pulled  off  his  own  warm  posteen  as  he  spoke,  but  the 
Emperor  dashed  it  from  his  hand. 

"  I  bide  my  time,  hell-doomed  !"  he  cried  passionately. 
"  Heaven  will  repay  the  kidnapper  of  Kings." 

Mohabat  bowed  low.  Whether  he  had  me,ant  to  go  so  far  is 
uncertain;  but  now  that  circumstances  shaped  themselves  to 
absolute  abduction,  he  accepted  the  situation  cynically. 

"  Majesty  speaks  truth  as  ever,"  he  replied  calmly.  "  I  take 
my  sovereign  from  unworthy  influence.  If  Majesty  is  ready, 
I  am." 

The  brisk  fresh  morning  air  outside  brought,  for  the  time, 
added  confusion  to  Jahangir's  still  befogged  brain.  He  mounted 
his  horse  without  a  word;  but  once  he  was  on  its  back  passionate 
anger  at  coercion  took  possession  of  him  once  more.  He  dug 
his  bare  heels  into  the  animal's  sides,  and  with  one  bound  it  was 
off  like  the  wind. 

But  once  again  Mohabat  was  too  strong  for  him.  Armed 
Rajputs  barred  the  way  on  every  side,  and  the  Emperor  was 
nigh  thrown  by  the  sudden  check. 

"  Majesty  will  find  an  elephant  safer,"  said  Mohabat  caustic- 
ally. "  Mine  awaits  him." 

With  mingled  curses  and  tears,  Jahangir  did  as  he  was  bid, 
and  mounted  the  elephant,  which  moved  off,  a  Rajput  as  mahout 
and  two  armed  Rajputs  behind  the  howdah. 

"  Stay  !"  said  Mohabat  suddenly.  "  Where  is  the  Emperor's 
cup-bearer  ?  Let  him  go  also.  Majesty  will  be  the  better  of 
wine  this  cold  morning — a  full  beaker,  slave,  dost  hear  ?  and  as 
many  of  them  as  Majesty  desires.  There  be  no  limits  set  to 
Majesty's  wishes  so  long  as  he  be  in  Mohabat  Khan's  keeping." 

By  this  time  news  of  the  abduction  had  spread  abroad  in  the 
camp,  or  what  remained  of  it.  For  the  most  part  helpless  in 
the  presence  of  two  thousand  armed  Rajputs,  the  majority  knew 
not  what  to  do.  But  the  keeper  of  the  elephants  made  a  bold 
attempt  to  rescue  his  master.  Hastily  mounting  a  huge  female 
elephant,  his  son  ready  behind  the  howdah  to  give  aid,  he  forced 
his  way  through  the  gathering  crowd  mercilessly. 


300  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

"  Back  !  Back  !"  he  cried  as  the  great  beast  ambled  forward. 
"  Back  !  Back  !  Majesty  rides  his  own  elephant,  not  that  of 
disloyal  rebels  !" 

The  ruse  was  almost  successful.  The  small  male  animal  on 
which  Jahangir  was  riding  gave  a  trumpet  and  made  instantly 
for  the  female,  despite  its  mahout's  efforts  to  restrain  it,  while 
the  leviathan,  perfectly  under  control,  allowed  it  to  approach. 
Another  instant,  and  Jahangir,  who  had  grasped  his  faithful 
servant's  intention,  would  have  been  able  to  scramble  over  to 
his  own  beast,  when  Mohabat,  seeing  the  danger,  called  on  his 
lancers  to  charge.  The  huge  beast  swerved,  and  in  a  second 
the  armed  Rajputs  from  behind  Jahangir's  howdah  had  swarmed 
over  to  its  back.  There  was  a  brief  scuffle,  a  few  murderous 
stabs,  and  both  the  keeper  of  the  elephants  and  his  son  were 
thrown  down  before  the  feet  of  the  infuriated  animal.  But  the 
attackers  had  reckoned  without  the  blind  loyalty  of  the  beast  to 
its  master;  they  had  calculated  on  the  flimsy  faith  of  humanity. 
With  a  scream  of  terror  the  maddened  creature  started  aside  so 
violently  to  avoid  those  beloved  bodies  that  one  of  the  two 
Rajputs  who  had  crept  forward  to  regain  control  was  thrown  to 
the  ground.  To  trample  on  him  viciously,  and  then,  with  a  wild 
trumpet,  to  gallop  off,  heedless  of  all,  was  the  work  of  an  instant. 
None  but  those  who  have  seen  an  elephant  at  the  gallop  can  have 
any  idea  of  the  hideous  power  of  its  action.  Clinging  desperately 
to  the  crupper  rope,  the  second  Rajput  strove  to  avoid  being 
dashed  to  the  ground — vain  precaution  against  death  !  With 
another  fierce  trumpet  of  defiance  the  animal  plunged  into  the 
sliding  river  and  made  for  the  opposite  shore,  its  tumultuous 
action  changing  to  slow  rhythm  as  it  swam.  Vain  relief !  The 
man  clinging  behind  gave  one  yell  of  dismay,  strove  to  lift  him- 
self higher,  failed,  choked,  rolled  over  into  the  water,  and  dis- 
appeared for  ever. 

Meanwhile  Jahangir,  overcome  with  the  excitement,  the  grief 
at  seeing  his  servants  killed  before  his  very  eyes,  had  helplessly 
held  out  his  hand  for  another  goblet  of  wine,  and  when  he  had 
swallowed  it  for  another  and  another. 

"  Give  him  what  he  desires,"  muttered  Mohabat  under  his 
breath;  "  he  will  be  more  easily  managed  drunk  than  sober." 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  301 

The  thought  made  him  remember  Nurjahan. 

Fool  that  he  had  been  not  to  send  and  have  her  kidnapped 
also  !  That  was  an  error  which  must  be  remedied  at  once. 

Turning  his  horse,  after  brief  directions  to  take  the  Emperor 
to  his,  Mohabat's,  tent  and  give  him  in  charge  to  his,  Mohabat's, 
two  sons,  he  called  a  body  of  Rajputs  and  rode  straight  for  the 
women's  tents. 

He  found  them  full  of  excited  ladies  screaming  and  sobbing 
and  crying. 

"  The  Empress  !"  he  shouted — "  the  Empress  !  where  is  she  ?" 

But  she  was  not  to  be  found.  The  bird  had  flown.  So, 
cursing  his  own  short-sightedness,  he  returned  to  his  captive 
to  ply  him  with  drink  and  pleasures  and  fulsome  flatteries;  for 
therein,  he  saw,  lay  his  best  chance  of  success. 


CHAPTER  XV 

"  In  the  Great  Mart  where  Life's  best  goods  are  bought 
Prudence  is  worthless,  Caution  is  as  naught ; 
He  wins  who  counts  no  cost  of  what  he  buys, 
But  pays  his  money  down  without  a  thought." 

WHEN  Nurjahan  was  awakened  about  dawn  by  noises  in  the 
innermost  enclosure,  she  started  up,  threw  on  a  quilted  robe, 
and,  going  to  the  outer  room,  gave  instant  order  for  the  guards  to 
be  doubled.  Enclosed  as  she  had  been  within  the  purple  and  gold 
screens,  she  had  no  idea  that  the  royal  tents  stood  alone  that  side 
the  stream. 

The  answer  given  her  opened  her  eyes,  and  with  a  rush  it  came 
home  to  her  that  here  was  treachery.  But  whose  ? 

Then  came  with  overmastering  force  the  question:  "What 
was  to  be  done  ?" 

The  other  women  seemed  to  have  answered  it  their  own  fashion 
— they  had  rushed  in  on  her,  begging  her  to  save  them — from 
what  ?  That  was  the  question.  Of  her  own  personal  safety 
she  did  not  think.  There  was  the  child,  of  course;  but  even 
Mohabat  would  not  injure  the  child  ! 

Nor,  surely,  would  he  dare  to  harm  Jahangir.  There  was  no 
reason  why  he  should,  since,  once  he  got  the  Emperor  into  his 
grip,  it  would  be  all  too  easy  to  turn  him  at  his  will.  She,  of  all 
people,  knew  how  plastic  the  latter  was  in  strong  hands.  Still, 
she  must  know  for  certain  now  ere  she  could  decide  on  what  had 
best  be  done. 

So  she  stood,  not  trembling  outwardly,  but  within  all  aquiver 
with  excitement,  her  ear  glued  to  a  crevice  in  the  tent,  listening — 
listening 

With  her  quick  wits  it  did  not  take  her  long  to  grasp  the 
situation.  The  Emperor  was  being  kidnapped,  for  what  purpose 
remained  to  be  seen.  On  this  side  the  river  she  was  powerless 
to  prevent  it.  On  the  other  side,  were  they  all  traitors  ?  Surely 

302 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  303 

not  3,11 — there  was  Fedai,  at  any  rate.  And  Asof  might  be  shamed 
into  action;  he  was  Mohabat's  bitterest  enemy 

Her  resolve  came  in  a  second.  She  must  somehow  cross  the 
river,  and  that  at  once,  and  as  secretly  as  might  be.  The  bridge, 
so  they  had  told  her,  was  gone;  but  there  must  be  boats;  if  not 
close  at  hand,  yet  still  a  little  way  down  the  river-bank. 

Calming  the  other  ladies  with  a  few  words  of  reassurance 
that  no  harm  was  meant,  she  passed  rapidly  into  the  inner  tent 
again,  where  she  found  a  group  of  lower-class  women  servants 
huddled  together  in  alarm.  Their  aid  would  be  better  than  that 
of  the  eunuchs  and  such  like;  they  would  be  less  likely  to  prate. 
Taking  off  her  bracelets,  with  them  and  a  few  swift  words  she 
bribed  them  without  difficulty,  the  ignorant  woman's  love  of 
mystery  and  deception  working  in  her  favour.  So,  ere  a  few 
minutes  had  passed,  she  found  herself,  suitably  dressed  and 
closely  muffled  in  a  coarse  outdoor  veil,  being  carried  along  the 
river-bank  in  one  of  the  common  square  dhoolis  in  which  such 
women  usually  travel,  and  which  had  been  waiting  outside  the 
tent  for  the  expected  move  that  day.  On  her  lap,  still  asleep 
and  carefully  wrapped  up  in  another  common  veil,  lay  the  Gifted 
Lady,  whom  she  had  not  had  the  heart  to  leave  behind. 

One  of  the  women,  a  tall  strapping  Panjabi,  walked  beside  her 
and  gave  instructions  to  the  two  bearers,  bidding  them  hasten 
all  they  knew,  on  promise  of  reward. 

So  far,  good.  Nurjahan,  still  vital  to  her  finger-tips,  felt  her 
heart  beat  high,  her  spirits  rise  at  the  thought  of  adventures  to 
come;  adventures  which  must,  which  would,  be  surmounted. 
Their  way  lay  for  the  most  part  along  a  narrow  beaten  path 
that  led  through  dense  tamarisk  thickets,  across  sparse  fields  of 
pulse  sown  as  a  catch  crop  on  soil  new  upturned  from  the  river, 
and  then  out  again  on  the  sliding  yellow  stream  which  sapped 
with  a  tinkling  sound  on  the  crumbling  edge  of  the  sandbanks. 
On  and  on  they  went,  the  pinky-purple  plumes  of  the  tamarisk 
scattering  pollen  as  they  swept  them  back,  the  grey  geese  rising 
from  the  green  crops,  the  fresh  light  of  dawn  falling  on  stretches 
beyond  of  curving  water  and  curving  sand.  Nurjahan  was 
just  beginning  to  wonder  if  she  had  been  right  to  trust  to  the 
chance  of  finding  a  boat  below,  or  whether  it  might  not  have  been 


3o4  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

better  to  brave  the  possibility  of  detection  above,  and  make 
straight  for  the  recognized  ferry,  when,  turning  a  sharp  corner, 
they  came  upon  an  encampment  of  those  strange  river-folk 
who  haunt  the  banks  of  the  Jhelum  and  the  Indus,  and  who  live 
by  hunting  the  crocodiles,  drying  their  flesh,  and,  when  the 
summer  floods  come  down,  making  further  fishing  impossible,  by 
selling  it  round  the  country-side. 

Big,  black,  long-armed,  fuzzy-haired  men  and  women  are  they, 
dressed  for  the  most  part  in  nakedness  and  blue  beads,  speaking 
a  strange,  uncouth  language  of  their  own,  and  sheltering  them- 
selves in  beehive-like  wigwams  round  a  central  fire.  But  there 
were  a  couple  of  dug-out  boats  floating  in  the  shallows,  and 
without  a  second's  hesitation  Nurjahan  stopped  the  bearers  and 
got  out  of  the  dhooli,  the  child  still  in  her  arms. 

Then  ensued  a  sharp  altercation,  first  between  the  high-pitched 
voice  of  the  Panjabi  woman  and  the  headman,  a  big  fellow  on 
whose  almost  black  limbs  the  rising  sun  sent  blue  lights.  It 
went  on  and  on,  it  seemed  to  Nurjahan's  impatience,  inter- 
minably; at  length,  with  one  backward  sweep  of  her  dis- 
engaged arm,  she  loosened  the  folds  of  her  outer  veil,  let  it  drop, 
and  so  stood  before  the  semi-savages  revealed  in  all  her  singular 
beauty,  a  vision  such  as  they  had  never  seen  before. 

"  Lo  !"  she  said  clearly,  majesty  in  speech,  manner,  figure, 
"  I  am  your  Empress,  and  I  command  you  to  obey.  I  would 
cross  the  river  now,  this  instant.  Bring  yonder  boat,  and  this 
shall  be  your  reward."  As  she  spoke,  she  took  off  the  string  of 
pearls  from  her  neck  and  held  it  aloft.  There  was  an  instant's 
murmur  of  amazed  greed,  for  these  fishers  of  the  big  streams 
knew  well  the  value  of  the  pearls  they  sometimes  found  in  the 
river-mussels.  In  an  instant  half  a  dozen  long-legged  lads  were 
ankle-deep  in  the  water,  bringing  the  biggest  of  the  two  boats  to 
ihore.  It  looked  surprisingly  small,  and  the  Empress's  liquid 
eyes  travelled  for  one  instant  over  the  wide  stretch  of  water,  a 
mile  or  more,  that  had  to  be  traversed.  Then,  without  a  word, 
she  stepped  into  the  frail  craft,  still  holding  the  pearls  aloft,  since 
not  till  she  had  really  started  did  she  mean  to  pay  the  price. 
Her  unaccustomed  feet  and  weight  caused  the  boat  almost  to 
overset,  but  the  headman,  paddle  in  hand,  readjusted  the  balance, 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  305 

and  as  willing  arms  shoved  the  boat  up  the  stream  she  flung  the 
string  of  pearls  backwards.  As  she  did  so  the  silk  on  which 
they  were  threaded  broke,  and  they  fell  upon  the  sand  in  little 
heaps  and  runnels,  one  poised  on  the  very  outermost  edge  of 
the  little  sand  cliff  that  the  water  was  eroding.  A  burst  of 
laughter  followed  as  men,  women,  and  children  scrambled  for 
the  prize.  The  poised  pearl  slipped,  but  a  lank  boy  was  after 
it  like  an  otter,  and  ere  the  boat  was  in  midstream  rose  with  it 
in  his  teeth,  salaaming  and  shaking  the  water  from  his  woolly 
mat. 

It  was  a  good  beginning,  thought  Nurjahan,  as  she  began  to 
realize  that  she  was  alone  on  the  yellow  flood  with  a  man  who  any 
instant  could  overpower  her,  fling  her  body  to  the  stream,  and 
make  off  with  her  jewels.  And  in  her  hurry  she  had  forgotten 
once  more  to  shroud  herself  in  her  borrowed  veil.  Few  women, 
even  the  most  courageous,  like  to  feel  themselves  at  the  mercy 
of  a  strong  man,  and  Nurjahan  was  no  exception  to  the  rule. 
And  she  had  no  weapon  save  only  her  own  beauty,  her  own  charm. 
So  she  sat  still  in  the  bottom  of  the  dug-out,  the  child  still  asleep 
at  her  feet,  the  early  sunrays  flashing  on  her  jewelled  hair,  her 
liquid  eyes  fixed  on  the  coarse  animal  face  of  the  man  in  front 
of  her,  who  plyed  his  paddle  with  such  singular  dexterity.  For  an 
instant  she  thought  of  bribing  him  with  necklace  or  bracelet. 
But  an  instant's  reflection  showed  her  the  uselessness  of  this, 
when  all  was  at  his  bidding.  There  was  but  one  thing  to  do — to 
show  no  fear — no  fear  of  anything. 

Ah  ! — there  was  a  sandbank  right  ahead,  a  lashing  current  by 
it,  a  sharp  curve — the  little  boat,  caught  in  a  whirlpool,  shot 
round.  Brave  as  she  was,  she  could  have  cried  aloud  for  the 
very  tenseness  of  her  dread  of  what  might  come;  but  she  only 
clenched  her  hands  on  the  gunwale  tighter  and  tighter.  Then 
came  a  swift  stroke  of  the  paddle,  the  dug-out  righted  itself 
and  they  were  in  slack  water  once  more. 

"  Shahbash  !"  she  cried  impetuously,  her  whole  heart  in  the 
praise.  "  Shahbash  !"  And  the  dimple  showing  in  her  delicate 
face  brought  broad  smiles  to  that  other  sensual  one,  as  the  man 
nodded  his  head  approvingly;  this  was  a  brave  one  ! 

After  that  the  long  voyage  across  the  waste  of  waters  was  one 

20 


306  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

series  of  hair-breadth  escapes,  for  the  boatman  went  out  of  his 
way  to  show  his  prowess,  and  win  that  swift  approval. 

They  swept  round  sandbanks,  they  slanted  across  swirling 
rapids,  they  skimmed  so  close  to  a  crumbling  cliff  or  sandbank 
that  Nurjahan  instinctively  clutched  at  the  child  so  that  at  any 
rate  they  might  drown  together.  But  ever  and  always  she  was 
ready  with  her  "  Well  done  !"  even  from  pallid  lips,  and  he  was 
ready  with  grins  of  pleasure.  A  queer  couple  these,  out  on  the 
yellow  flood,  that  only  ended  on  the  level  horizon.  Luxury  and 
poverty,  civilization  and  savagery,  held  together  by  a  woman's 
charm. 

The  sun  crept  up  and  up,  but  on  the  water  it  was  cool.  The 
child  woke  and  laughed  with  joy  to  find  herself  in  such  novel, 
delightful  surroundings. 

Despite  her  first  fears  Nurjahan  felt  strangely  rested  when  at 
long  last  the  dug-out  shot  in  shore,  and,  stepping  out,  she  found 
herself  within  a  hundred  yards  or  so  of  a  sentry's  tent.  She  gave 
her  pioneer  her  brightest  smile  and  a  farewell  "  Shahbash  !" 
then,  the  child  running  in  front  of  her,  made  her  way  to  the  tent. 

A  group  of  men  lounging  and  smoking  stared  at  her  in  blank 
amaze. 

"  I  am  the  Empress,"  she  said  calmly.  "  Conduct  me  to  the 
tent  of  Fedai  Khan — and  carry  the  child;  she  will  tire  !" 

Speechless  with  astonishment,  they  obeyed.  So  through  the 
camp  she  walked  firmly,  while  some  folk  stared  and  others  fell 
down,  kissing  the  dust  at  her  feet. 

For  this  woman  of  fifty-five,  walking  as  she  had  not  walked 
for  years,  among  crowding  spectators,  was  Empress  without 
doubt.  What  but  Majesty  could  so  sustain  a  woman  before  the 
public  eye  ? 

"  Bid  the  master  attend  me  without  delay,"  she  said  right 
royally  to  the  servants  in  Fedai's  tent,  and  they  hurried  to  do 
her  bidding  at  once.  None  gainsaid  her,  none  doubted  she  spoke 
truth. 

She  had  not  long  to  wait.  Fedai  Khan  was  at  her  feet,  kissing 
the  very  dust  at  them  in  delight  at  her  escape.  But  she  met 
him  with  a  frown. 

"  How  comes  it,  slave,"  she  cried,  "  that  the  Emperor  was  so 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  307 

deserted  ?  and  how  comes  it,  traitor,  that  thou  art  not  at  this 
moment  rescuing  him  from  the  hands  of  his  enemy  and  mine  ?" 

Fedai  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height.  "  I  am  no  traitor, 
Highness ;  my  duty  it  was  to  go  forward  to  the  new  camp.  I  was 
out-wearied  with  the  work.  I  slept  late,  and  then — lo  !  I  have 
spent  these  two  hours  urging  men  to  act,  but  not  one  will  plant 
the  foot  of  courage  in  the  pathway  of  honour.  So,  Majesty 
permitting,  I  go  alone,!" 

He  turned  as  he  spoke  and  would  have  left,  but  she  called  to 
him  in  a  softer  voice. 

"  No  traitor  thou,  Fedai;  but  I  am  outworn  and  need  help. 
The  others — Asof  and  the  rest — where  are  they  ?" 

Fedai  stood  gloomy,  his  hand  on  his  sword.  "  Of  Asof  I  know 
naught !  Lo,  I  have  sought  for  him  without  avail.  The  others 
are  dumbfoundered — petrified — such  as  are  loyal — and  the 
others "  He  flung  his  sword  out.  "  They  count  not,  High- 
ness. I  and  my  followers " 

"  Peace,  Fedai,"  said  the  Empress,  regaining  the  composure 
she  had  almost  lost.  "  There  must  be  no  bloodshed  this  side  the 
river  till  we  have  held  council.  Are  the  royal  tents  prepared  ?" 

"  As  ever,  Highness." 

"  Then  bid  a  royal  dhooli  here  to  take  me  thither.  And 
summon  all — ay,  every  Amir,  every  courtier,  every  noble — to  a 
council  of  war.  Dost  hear  ?  A  council  on  the  instant — not  a 
moment  to  be  lost." 

Less  than  half  an  hour  afterwards  Nurjahan,  unattended,  .alone, 
the  only  woman  in  the  vast  tent,  faced  her  audience  of  men. 
She  stood,  a  tall  slight  figure,  unscreened,  almost  unveiled,  for 
the  gauzy  head-covering  with  which  she  had  started  on  her 
perilous  adventure  was  all  torn  and  frayed  by  rough  usage.  But 
she  looked  every  inch  an  Empress  as  her  woman's  voice,  full  of 
scorn,  full  of  reproach,  rang  out. 

"  0  resplendent  noblemen  of  the  Court !  O  strong  bodies 
and  brave  hearts  !  what  do  ye  here  obeying  a  woman's  behest 
when  your  master,  your  King,  your  God,  captive  in  the  hands 
of  his  enemy,  cries  aloud  to  you  for  deliverance  ?  Is  not  shame 
yours  ?  Lo  !  I,  a  lone  woman,  have  crossed  the  river  to  seek 
aid.  Could  not  ye,  strong  men,  hundreds  of  you — nay,  thousands 


y>8  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

— have  crossed  it  likewise  ?  Shame  on  ye  !  Shame  on  ye  ! 
Lo  !  I  say  not,  wherefore  did  ye  leave  the  Emperor  unguarded  ? 
That  is  past  and  over.  Your  honour  is  in  the  dust;  but  there 
remains  redress.  Why  stand  ye  idle  ?  Be  up  and  doing  !  Call 
together  the  army,  else  I,  a  woman,  do  so,  and  shame  ye  all. 
Oh,  had  I  but  been  born  a  man,  I  would  not  have  stood  gazing 
as  ye  do  while  my  honour,  my  renown,  was  being  trailed  in  the 
dust  by  a  low-born  scoundrel.  And  as  for  thou,  Asof,"  she 
continued,  turning  swiftly  on  her  brother,  "  I  ask  not  even  why 
thou  didst  forsake  him — thou  knowest  best.  But  if  thou  art  ever 
to  claim  Nurjahan  Padshah  Begum  as  sister  again — ay,  if  thou 
art  ever  to  claim  dead  Ghiyass-ud-din  as  father,  and  not  brand 
thyself  bastard,  thou  wilt,  as  the  highest  in  the  land — since  that 
thou  art,  since  my  lord — the  lord  whom  thou  leavest  in  captivity 
— made  thee  Vizier — call  on  these  others  to  action  as  I  call  on 
them  as  woman.  Oh,  men,  up  and  be  doing;  be  not  cowards. 
Lo  !  I  will  lead  the  van — let  the  dawn  see  our  emprise." 

She  was  trembling  like  an  aspen  ere  she  finished,  but  her  lips 
were  firm,  her  hands  hard  clenched. 

Then  someone  spoke.  "  I  am  no  coward,  Highness,"  he  said 
simply;  "  but  I  was  told  the  Emperor  himself  had  sent  a  letter 
to  bid  us  withhold  action,  nor  bring  about  unnecessary  bloodshed." 

She  turned  like  lightning  on  Asof  Khan.  "  Is  this  true  ?" 
she  asked. 

"Ay,"  replied  Asof  unwillingly;  "but  'twas  no  letter.  'Twas 
a  verbal  message,  yet  the  bearer  held  the  Emperor's  signet  as 
warranty." 

Nurjahan  laughed  aloud.  "  That  could  be  slipped  from  his 

ringer  while  he  slept,  since "  she  paused.  They  knew  as  well 

as  she  the  ease  with  which  such  theft  could  be  made  from  a  drugged 
man.  Ay,  made  perhaps  not  as  theft,  but  willingly.  Then  she 
turned  to  them  in  final  appeal. 

"  Gentlemen,  high-born  and  honourable,  if  that  message  be 
true,  think  you  the  Emperor  sent  it  of  his  own  free  will  ?  Nay; 
ill,  weak,  unhinged  as  he  must  be  by  this  violence,  he  is  at  the 
mercy  of  Mohabat.  Will  ye  also  be  slaves — as  ye  will  be — to 
one  low-born,  who  could  outmatch  Satan  himself  in  guile  ?" 

She  had  touched  the  right  chord  that  time,  and  a  low  grow 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  309 

of  dissent  ran  round  the  tent,  during  which  Nurjahan  leant 
forward  and  whispered  to  Asof  fiercely. 

"  Fool  !"  she  said.  "  Canst  not  see  that  if  Mohabat  hath  the 
Emperor  in  thrall,  Par  viz  will  take  the  place  of  Shahjahan  ? 
Up,  man,  and  tell  them  the  message  is  a  lie — bid  them  be  ready 
at  dawn,  and  all  will  go  well." 

He  looked  at  her,  and  acquiesced.  Mohabat  was  his  bitterest 
enemy,  it  was  true.  So  bitter  that,  finding  he  was  at  the  head 
of  two  thousand  gallant  Rajputs,  with  reinforcements  said  to  be 
behind  him,  Asof  had  meant  to  find  discretion  the  best  part  of 
valour  (as  he  did  indeed  the  next  day).  But  his  sister's  arrival 
and  upbraidings  had  made  retreat  without  dishonour  impossible., 
s  D,  to  all  appearance,  he  fell  in  with  her  views.  A  general  muster 
was  called  for  dawn,  and  each  went  his  way,  some  determined 
to  fight  truly,  others  to  look  on. 

But  the  soldiery  took  it  in  good  sooth,  and  round  the  camp- 
fires  sharpened  their  lances  and  swords  and  looked  to  the  flash- 
pans  of  their  matchlocks;  since  a  fight  is  ever  a  fight  to  the  pro- 
fessional. 

And  one  man  who,  by  profession,  was  Court  favourite  also, 
took  it  seriously.  Fedai  Khan  had  no  liking  for  the  term 
"coward";  and  though  his  mistress  had  rescinded  the  accusa- 
tion, it  still  rankled.  Besides,  he  had  no  intention  of  leaving 
his  master  unstriven  for,  to  spend  a  night  alone  and  in  captivity. 

So  when  darkness  fell,  a  small  body  of  horsemen,  headed  by 
Fedai,  their  horses'  hoofs  deadened  with  felt  pads,  stole  down  the 
river-bank,  and  making  their  way  from  sandbank  to  sandbank, 
stood  at  length  on  the  shores  of  the  big  stream  which  the  bridge 
of  boats  had  spanned.  It  was  not  so  long  a  journey  as  Nurjahan's 
had  been,  for  she  had  had  to  skirt  round  the  sandbanks  and  gain 
the  further  side  of  the  whole  wide  river-bed,  whereas  they  had 
cut  straight  across,  fording  the  shallow  streams  and  swimming 
the  deeper  ones;  but  there  were  treacherous  quicksands  to  be 
negotiated,  and  time  had  passed  more  than  once  in  extracting 
an  incautious  trooper  or  two  from  a  quagmire. 

But  now,  with  the  rising  of  the  crescent  moon,  they  gathered 
in  a  knot  on  the  furthest  point  of  the  big  stream  shore,  and 
tightened  their  girths  for  the  struggle  that  lay  before  them.  As 


310  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

fine  a  body  of  tail,  sinewy,  black-bearded  Rangars  as  ever  was 
seen,  each  hardy  in  thought  and  deed,  and  eager  for  the  adventure. 

"  Art  ready  ?"  asked  Fedai.  "  Then  follow  me  !"  At  the 
word  he  and  his  horse  plunged  into  the  tide,  and  the  next  instant 
were  being  swept  down  by  the  force  of  the  current,  but  swimming, 
swimming  gallantly.  And  behind  him,  in  twos  and  threes,  in 
groups  or  alone,  the  troopers  showed  like  floating  shadows  on 
the  water,  which,  dark  though  the  night  was,  gleamed  light. 

A  hard  swim  and  a  long  swim;  but  heavy  accoutrements  had 
been  left  behind,  and  the  game  little  Indian  horses  had  been  well 
fed  up  three  hours  syne  with  a  wonderful  mess  of  raw  sugar  and 
eggs  and  roasted  gram-flour. 

Still,  it  was  a  perilous  adventure,  and  more  than  one  pair  of 
bold  eyes  watched  the  twinkling  lights  on  the  opposite  shore  and 
wished  he  was  there  with  unsheathed  sword  ready  to  thrust  into 
an  enemy's  wame. 

"  There  goes  Gulab  Khan  !"  said  one  to  his  neighbour.  "  I 
warned  him  against  the  big  Kabuli^mare,  but  he  would  hold  it 
better  than  the  little  Arab.  God  rest  him  !" 

"  Mayhap  he  may  find  a  sandbank  somewhere,"  said  his  com- 
panion indifferently,  as  he  threw  himself  off  his  mount  for  a  spell 
of  swimming  in  order  to  aid  the  beast. 

But  it  was  not  only  Gulab  Khan  who  went ;  others  followed,  and 
it  was  a  reduced  party  which,  gaining  the  bank  at  last,  noiselessly 
reformed  itself  some  mile  and  a  half  below  the  enemy's  tents  and 
took  stock  of  its  number  and  arms. 

Fedai  counted  them  anxiously.  A  bare  dozen;  the  rest  had 
disappeared,  and  though  some  of  them  had  doubtless  found  safety 
further  down,  there  was  no  time  to  wait  for  them  to  rejoin. 
There  were  enough,  mayhap,  for  his  purpose  of  surprise;  if  not, 
it  was  God's  will.  So,  spick  and  span  still,  despite  the  fact  that 
he  had  not  a  dry  stitch  on  him,  Fedai  Khan  rode  carefully  on 
at  the  head  of  his  little  party  of  rescue;  and  as  he  rode  he  was 
carefully  balancing  the  pros  and  cons  for  stealth  all  through,  and 
defiance  only  at  the  last. 

Fate,  however,  was  against  both.  They  had  almost  reached 
the  tents  when  a  challenge  rang  out  from  the  darkness,  and  they 
found  themselves  surrounded  by  Rajputs.  Thank  God  !  By 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  311 

Rajputs,  for  if  there  be  one  thing  a  Mahomedan  Rangar  loathes, 
it  is  a  Hindu  Rajput;  possibly  because  deep  down  in  the  soul  of 
every  Rangar  lurks  the  knowledge  that  before  Mahomed  of  Ghazni 
converted  his  tribe  wholesale  to  Mahomedanism  by  the  sword, 
it  had  belonged  to  the  great  martial  race  of  India. 

So,  with  one  guttural  cry  of  "  Din  Din  !  Fatteh  Mahomed  !" 
they  were  at  the  throats  of  their  alien  brothers,  and  it  was  cut 
and  thrust  fiercely,  as  inch  by  inch  they  were  driven  back  river- 
wards  by  overwhelming  numbers.  Fedai,  a  fine  swordsman, 
engaged  one  after  another  till  his  horse's  hoofs  sank  in  mingled 
water  and  sand;  then  with  a  supreme  effort  he  clove  his  last 
assailant  to  the  very  chine,  and  turning  his  game  little  beast 
by  sheer  pressure  of  his  knees  leapt  clear  into  the  current,  his 
hands  still  clasped  on  his  sword-hilt.  "  Till  dawn  !"  he  shouted, 
as  the  stream  carried  him  down.  "  Till  dawn,  hell-doomed 
infidels  !" 

He  had  not  succeeded,  but  he  and  his  party  had  at  least  ac- 
counted for  twice  their  number  of  the  enemy. 

So  it  was  not  a  discomfited  but  a  radiant  Fedai  who,  just  as 
the  sun  was  rising,  reported  himself  and  his  adventure  to  the 
Empress. 

She  looked  grave  and  preoccupied  in  her  leather  hunting-dress, 
to  which  she  had  added  a  coat  of  mail,  while  a  steel  chain  cap 
covered  her  jewel-braided  hair.  For  she  was  to  keep  her  promise 
of  leading  the  men. 

"  'Tis  well,"  she  said.  "  It  shows  that  it  is  fordable.  And 
that  is  all  we  need  !" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

"  Give  largesse  with  both  hands  ;  an  empty  Purse 
Is  a  light  burden.     Fate  will  reimburse 
The  costs  of  those  who  with  unbending  will 
Play  out  the  part  She  gives  them  to  rehearse." 

NURJAHAN  did  not  sleep  that  night.  She  sat  waiting  for  the 
dawn — such  a  slow  dawn  !  Easterly  of  those  distant  tents  on 
the  far  side  of  the  river  there  was  just  a  faint  lightening  below 
the  heavy  bank  of  cloud  that  lay  on  the  horizon.  So  by  degrees 
the  shadows  on  earth  and  sky  paled,  the  bank  of  cloud  curdled 
to  little  flecks,  then  flushed  rosy  like  the  cheek  of  an  expectant 
maiden  at  her  lover's  step. 

And  he  was  here,  the  Great  Earth-lover  !  the  Bringer  of  Life  ! 

In  an  instant  all  was  bustle.  Ere  the  sun  had  really  risen, 
large  bodies  of  horsemen  stood  grouped  along  the  northern  bank 
of  the  River  Jhelum,  waiting  for  the  sign  to  advance;  waiting 
indeterminately,  since  Asof  Khan  had  issued  no  definite  orders, 
and  each  leader  was  left  to  choose  his  own  objective,  to  select 
his  own  fancied  point  for  fording  the  swift  stream. 

It  might  be  that  this  lack  of  disposition  had  its  merits  by 
allowing  freedom  of  action,  but  it  certainly  showed  a  lack  of 
unanimity,  a  wavering  of  purpose. 

There  was  neither,  however,  in  the  armoured  cohort  of  elephants 
which  swept  down  from  the  royal  tents,  led  by  the  Empress 
herself,  on  the  celebrated  Alum  Gajraj,  the  first  and  favourite 
male  of  the  whole  stud;  a  huge  beast  close  on  fifteen  feet  in  height, 
which  had  ever  been  the  Emperor  Akbar's  favourite  mount. 
Renowned  alike  for  courage  and  strength,  he  lilted  along  as  if 
proud  of  his  burden.  And  well  he  might  be;  for  never  in  her  life 
had  Nurjahan  looked  more  a  "  Queen  of  Women."  She  was 
dressed  in  her  leathern  hunting-suit,  and  over  it  she  wore  a  coat 
of  mail,  while  a  cap  of  linked^steel  chain  hid  her  still  gem-decked 
hair.  At  her  feet,  in  the  armoured  vfar-howdah,  sat  the  little 

312 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  313 

Gifted  Lady,  why,  it  is  hard  to  say.  Possibly  her  grandmother 
expected  small  difficulty  in  her  task  of  rejoining  and  rescuing  the 
Emperor.  Possibly,  again,  she  may  have  anticipated  evil,  and 
been  unwilling  to  leave  the  child,  thelMecca  of  all  her  hopes,  to 
the  scant  mercies  of  those  who  knew  and  detested  her  plans  for 
the  future.  Certain  it  is  the  child  was  there;  a  well-grown, 
healthy  little  lass  of  two  and  a  half,  forward  in  every  physical 
way,  but  backward  mentally.  Outwardly  the  image  of  her 
grandmother,  inwardly,  showing  but  small  promise  of  her  com- 
manding intellect. 

"  Is  all  ready  ?"  asked  Nurjahan  of  Fedai,  who,  ever  since  he 
returned  from  his  night's  raid,  had  been  riding  up  and  down, 
seeing  to  this  contingent,  urging  that  one  to  plant  the  foot  of 
honour  on  the  path  of  courage,  to  remember  that  'twas  by  their 
neglect  the  Emperor's  freedom  was  endangered,  that  never  again 
need  they  call  themselves  men  did  they  not  avenge  the  insult 
put  upon  him,  and  upon  every  loyal  man,  by  the  mean-spirited 
hound  Mohabat — brave  words,  which  served  their  purpose  to  a 
certain  extent.  Those  behind  the  Empress,  at  least,  were  eager 
for  the  fray.  And  to  the  left,  above  the  burnt  bridge,  Asof  Khan 
made  fine  show  of  determination — at  the  start,  at  any  rate. 

"  They  are  as  ready  as  they  can  be  made,"  replied  Fedai 
gloomily. 

"  Then  bid  the  kettledrums  sound  !' ' 

With  a  curious  crackling  boom,  high-pitched,  insistent,  the 
advance  rang  out,  and  on^the  throbbing  roll  of  the  drums  rose  the 
blare  of  conches  from  the  Hindu  contingent. 

So  in  stately  march  the  elephants,  in  single  file,  slid  down  the 
high  bank,  and  traversed  the  sandbank  below,  their  great  pads 
leaving  circular  pools  of  water  behind  them. 

There  was  a  pause  on  the  water's  edge  to  allow  the  next  elephant 
to  step  up  and  take  its  place  to  the  right  of  the  leader,  its  head 
level  with  the^first  one's  girth.  Thus  alongside,  yet  in  slight 
echelon,  a  veritable  dam  of  brute  force,  each  beast  gaining  a 
certain  support  from  the  breakwater  of  its  fellow,  the  elephants 
struck  out,  slightly  up  stream. 

"  Shahbash,  Gajraj  !"  said  Nurjahan  to  her  huge  beast,  as  the 
wise  creature,  putting  his  forefoot  suddenly  into  deep  water, 


3M  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

trumpeted  the  news  to  those  behind  him,,  to  set  them  on  guard. 
And  now,  still  in  rigorously  kept  formation,  the  great  dam  of 
body  and  mind,  swimming,  breasted  the  swift  current. 

Meanwhile,  the  news  of  coming  assault  had  reached  the  opposite 
bank,  and  it  was  lined  by  dense  bodies  of  Rajput  horsemen 
ready  to  dispute  a  passage.  Further  down-stream,  indeed, 
where  a  party  of  loyalists  had  taken  advantage  of  the  elephants' 
breakwater  to  push  their  horses  rapidly  across,  the  clashing  of 
sword  on  sword  was  already  to  be  heard.  The  same  thing  might 
have  occurred  above  where  Asof  Khan  led,  for  there  the  passage, 
if  deeper,  was  narrower,  had  the  attack  been  pressed  home; 
but  it  was  not.  And  that  below  failing  in  its  object,  the  main 
body  of  the  enemy  was  free  to  deal  with  the  central  force,  which, 
led  by  Nurjahan,  came  on  steadily  if  slowly;  for  the  elephant  is 
not  a  fast  swimmer. 

But  in  the  end  Gajraj  found  footing,  trumpeted  the  news, 
and  stood  like  a  rock  despite  the  arrows  that  were  already  flight- 
ing round  him,  till  his  companions  had  formed  up  in  battle  array. 
Then  ensued  a  bitter  combat.  The  enemy  had  the  advantage  of 
higher  ground;  also  they  had  larger  targets  than  their  foes. 
Still  the  former  diminished  every  step  taken  shorewards,  till, 
save  for  activity  and  numbers,  the  combatants  stood  equal.  But 
both  these  were  on  the  side  of  the  rebels,  joined  to  the  dare- 
devil rashness  in  which  Rajput  soldiers  have  no  rival.  They  were 
in  the  water,  swimming  round  the  wading  elephants,  maddening 
them  with  their  spears,  regardless  of  the  lashing  trunks,  the  sharp 
tusks  of  the  infuriated  leviathans,  regardless  of  the  steady  fire 
of  matchlocks  from  the  howdahs,  the  ceaseless  flights  of  arrows. 
Reddened  by  fast-flowing  blood,  churned  to  foam  by  the  frantic 
struggles  of  men  and  beasts,  the  waves  of  water  lashed  over  the 
combatants  and  sent  an  ominously  tinted  spray  into  the  sun- 
bright,  crisp  morning  air. 

And  ever  the  fiercest  of  the  fray  raged  round  Gajraj.  The 
arrows,  the  javelins,  flew  about  him  in  showers;  but  his  hide  was 
thick,  his  armour  strong,  his  courage  indomitable.  And  sterner 
still  was  the  mettle  of  the  woman  whom  he  carried.  Unmoved, 
though  the  missiles  were  falling  round  her  like  autumn  leaves  in 
a  gale,  she  pressed  on,  dauntless. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  315 

"  Well  done,  Gajraj  !"  shouted  the  mahout — one  who  had  been 
in  the  Emperor's  service  since  he  was  a  baby,  who  had  been 
rocked  to  sleep  in  the  huge  beast's  curled  trunk,  who  had  lived 
with  him,  and  asked  nothing  better  than  to  die  with  him.  "  Shah- 
bash  !  Shahbash  !" 

And  the  game  beast,  fighting  furiously,  responded  with  a 
trumpet,  that  was  answered  by  the  others;  so  sound,  terrific, 
ear-splitting,  came  to  add  to  the  horrors  of  the  scene ;  but  even  as 
he  reared  his  trunk  a  wandering  arrow  struck  him  on  the  tongue, 
and  his  shrieking  bellow  changed  to  a  roar  of  pain.  Mad  with 
rage,  he  made  a  supreme  effort.  With  the  downward  sweep  of 
the  trunk  he  tore  the  leader  of  the  attack  from  his  horse  and  flung 
.  him  skywards,  to  fall  and  sink  like  a  stone,  while  with  his  forefeet 
he  beat  the  foe  in  front  of  him  down,  down,  trampling  them  out 
of  all  shape  into  the  soft  sand. 

"  Shahbash,  Gajraj  !"  cried  the  Empress  triumphantly;  but 
at  that  moment  the  mahout  fell  sideways,  slipped — Gajraj 's 
little  twinkling  eyes  saw  the  fall,  his  quick  prehensile  trunk 
was  at  his  friend's  disposal  in  a  second  to  help  him  to  his  place 
again. 

Too  late  !  The  man's  heart  had  been  pierced  with  an  arrow — 
too  late,  for  with  lightning  swiftness  a  sword  came  down  on  the 
offered  support.  One  shriek  of  pain  and  the  animal  turned  to 
face  its  assailant,  but  confused  by  the  double  duty,  it  missed  its 
footing  in  the  soft,  slimy  bottom  of  sand  and  flesh  and  blood, 
slithered,  and  its  sudden  falter  was  the  signal  for  wild  assault. 

"  Down  with  the  woman  !  Down  with  her  !  Down  with  the 
witch  who  beguiles  men  !" 

So  rose  the  cry  from  a  hundred  mouths.  Nurjahan  answered 
them  with  her  matchlock,  shooting  down  her  assailants  with  the 
same  deadly  aim  with  which  she  had  shot  many  a  tigert  And  her 
few  staunch  adherents  fought  desperately,  while  Gajraj  alone, 
unaided  by  guidance,  continued  to  press  on. 

But  there  were  too  many  against  him.  Inch  by  inch,  though 
his  courage  never  failed,  he  had  to  give  way.  Inch  by  inch, 
covered  by  a  hundred  wounds,  mere  pin-pricks  to  his  stout  hide, 
yet 'still  draining  his  strength,  until  a  crafty  foe,  swimming 
alongside,  cut  him  twice  over  the  proboscis  with  a  two-edged 


3i6  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

sword,  and  with  a  mighty  roar  of  sheer  wrath  he  fell  back  into 
deep  water;  so  floundering,  half  swimming,  half  unconscious, 
drifted  down  stream. 

The  few  remaining  elephants — for  many  of  them  had  already 
given  up  the  fight — seeing  his  discomfiture,  turned  tail  and  fled. 

The  great  assault  had  failed. 

But  a  few  minutes  afterwards  the  beaten  giant  grounded  on  a 
sandbank,  happily  beyond  reach  of  arrows  or  javelins,  and, 
struggling  to  his  feet,  lifted  up  his  maimed  trunk  in  one  roar 
of  defiance.  And  his  challenge  was  unanswered. 

It  brought  to  Nurjahan's  aid,  however,  those  of  her  staunch 
adherents  who  remained. 

They  were  not  many,  and  they  flocked  round  in  terror  of  what 
they  might  find.  What  they  did  see  was  very  simple — a  woman 
on  her  knees  busily  engaged  in  binding  up  a  child's  wound;  for 
an  arrow  had  glanced  on  the  little  Gifted  Lady's  wrist,  and  her 
grandmother  was  bent  on  consoling  her. 

"  Hast  anyone,  by  chance,  some  sweetstuff  to  stop  her  cry- 
ing ?"  she  asked  hurriedly,  as  she  tore  another  strip  from  her  own 
white  drapery  to  finish  her  bandaging;  whereupon  a  young  trooper 
somewhat  shamefacedly  pulled  a  handful  of  sugar-drops  from 
within  his  shirt  of  mail,  and  peace  was  restored. 

But  the  day  was  lost,  and  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  return 
and  see  if  it  were  possible  to  make  another  attempt. 

So,  haltingly,  the  wounded  veteran  carried  his  mistress  back  to 
the  other  side;  and  during  the  journey  she  sat  calm,  pale,  silent, 
the  hurt  baby  in  her  arms. 

Yes,  the  attack  had  failed,  saving  for  Fedai  Khan's  contingent. 
Profiting  by  his  last  night's  experience,  and  with  a  large  party 
of  the  finest  fighters  in  the  camp,  he  had  gone  up  stream  a  good 
bit;  so,  letting  the  current  carry  him  down,  had  landed  above 
the  encampment  on  the  further  shore,  meeting  with  but  slack 
opposition  on  the  bank,  as  most  of  the  Rajputs  were  heavily 
engaged  on  the  bend  below. 

So  far,  so  good,  and  they  made  their  way  swiftly  across  level 
fields  to  the  tent  where  Fedai  knew  the  Emperor  was  lodged;  but 
this  they  found  overwhelmingly  guarded  at  all  points.  Never- 
theless, there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  attack,  and  Fedai,  nothing 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  317 

daunted,  went  at  his  task  with  a  will.  For  two  long  hours  the 
unequal  fight  went  on;  would  have  gone  on  doubtless  until  the 
ast  man  had  been  disabled,  but  for  the  sudden  appearance 
between  the  combatants  of  the  Emperor's  personal  attendant, 
who,  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  implored  a  moment's  respite  in  which 
to  deliver  a  message;  whereupon  Fedai  withdrew  a  space. 

The  message  was  briefly  this:  that  some  of  the  arrows  had 
actually  fallen  on  the  couch  where  the  Emperor  lay  asleep,  and, 
if  he  did  not  intend  to  kill  the  Shadow  of  God,  Fedai  Khan  should 
desist  from  a  violence  which  was  quite  contrary  to  Jahangir's 
wishes. 

Fedai  laughed  scornfully.  He  had  been  badly  wounded  him- 
self, his  horse  almost  cut  to  pieces,  and  his  lieutenants  were  seizing 
the  lull  to  staunch  the  bleeding  as  best  they  could.  "  I  return 
not  without  him,"  he  said.  "  I  will  not  face  my  mistress  if  I 
bring  him  not."  Then  suddenly  he  burst  into  angry  imprecation: 
"  Asleep,  saidst  thou  ?  Nay,  flatterer !  Time-server  !  Syco- 
phant !  He  is  drunk — and  thou  and  thy  like  are  traitors  !  Do 
I  not  know  Mohabat  ?  Is  he  not  false  as  the  fiend  himself  ? 
Can  I  not  see  his  trick  ?  Lo  !  he  will  give  the  Emperor  freedom 
— he  will  tempt  him — he  will  pander  to  him.  Go  back,  fool  ! 
Tell  those  who  sent  thee  that  so  soon  as  this  bleeding  stops  Fedai 
will  have  at  them  again." 

But  the  bleeding  did  not  stop,  not  at  any  rate  till  he  was 
almost  unconscious.  Then  his  friends  held  a  hurried  consultation, 
followed  by  a  parley  with  the  enemy,  from  which  it  appeared 
that  no  violence  was  being  done  to  the  Emperor,  that  none  was 
intended.  Furthermore,  that  Jahangir  had  with  his  own  hand 
written  an  order  to  his  troops  over  the  water,  commanding  in- 
stant cessation  of  hostilities. 

The  men  looked  at  each  other  and  sheathed  their  swords. 

"  Since  rescue  by  force  is  not  to  be,"  quoth  one,  "  I  am  for 
home.  'Tis  the  safest  place  these  times." 

"  Ay,"  said  Fedai's  most  faithful  servant,  "  and  for  wounded 
men  most  of  all.  My  master  needs  rest  !" 

And  he  got  it.  When  he  came  to  himself  he  was  miles  away 
from  the  scene  of  the  conflict;  nor  was  he  fit  to  return  to  it. 

Meanwhile,  over  the  water  worse  confusion  than  ever  prevailed. 


318  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

The  Sirdars,  who,  owing  to  Asof  Khan's  hesitation,  had  scarcely 
known  the  plan  of  attack,  were  loud  in  blame  of  the  faulty  dis- 
positions. Everything  was  at  sixes  and  sevens,  and  though 
Motamid  Khan,  the  Emperor's  secretary,  went  about  trying  to 
mend  matters,  not  one  soul  did  he  find  to  plant  the  foot  of  honour 
firmly.  Asof  Khan  himself,  after  lengthy  complaints  about  the 
uncertainties  of  this  changing  world,  disappeared,  and  was  no 
more  seen;  desiring,  as  he  wrote  afterwards,  to  be  safe  from  the 
oppressive  soul  of  Mohabat,  he  had  fled  to  Attock.  And,  one  by 
one,  the  Amirs  and  nobles  either  followed  his  example  of  retreat, 
or  went  over  boldly  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  leaving  the 
Empress  alone  with  a  few  faithful  servants. 

And  she  ? 

She  sat  in  the  royal  tents  and  clenched  her  hands,  not  in  despair, 
but  in  sheer  anger. 

She  was  no  fool;  she  knew  as  well  as  Fedai  what  was  happen- 
ing over  yonder,  where  Mohabat,  the  prince  of  deceivers,  was 
virtually  King.  She  could  imagine  it,  long  before  the  Emperor's 
secretary  returned  from  paying  his  respects,  with  a  succinct 
account  of  what  he  had  seen. 

Motamid  was  a  tall,  lank  man  with  a  pale  face  and  piercing 
dark  eyes.  He  squatted  on  the  ground  in  front  of  the  divan 
where  Nurjahan  sat  in  her  favourite  attitude,  her  elbow  on  her 
knee,  her  chin  in  her  hand,  her  mouth  firm  and  set. 

"  Of  a  truth,"  said  Motamid  mournfully,  "  Majesty  may  believe 
that  when  Mohabat  introduced  me  to  the  presence,  his  con- 
versation was  so  frivolous  and  trifling  that,  in  my  opinion,  death 
would  have  more  become  him." 

"  But  the  Emperor,"  put  in  Nurjahan  in  a  tone  of  irritation. 
"  Lo !  what  care  I  for  what  the  rebel  says  or  does — the  Emperor, 
my  good  man,  the  Emperor  !" 

Motamid  shook  his  head.  "  He  was  not  there,  Majesty. 
My  master  was  not  there.  One  lay  upon  the  couch  half  wake 
with  wine,  half  in  dreams  with  drugs.  A  slave-girl  fanned  him 
and  another,  with  flagon  and  glass,  knelt  ready  to  fill  a  cup — 
not  when  desired,  Majesty;  he  was  past  that — but  when  the  sign 
was  given." 
There  was  a  long  pause  of  silence.  Nurjahan  did  not  stir; 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  31, 

her  face  set  firmer;  the  hand  upon  her  chin  gripped  it  tighter. 
Finally  she  spoke — spoke  more  lightly. 

"  And  Mohabat — what  said  he  of  this  unheard  of,  this  almost 
unconceivable  plot  to  kidnap  the  Shadow  of  God  ?" 

Motamid  looked  even  more  mournful.  "  What  matters  it, 
Majesty  ?"  he  asked.  "  Lo  !  is  he  not  even  as  the  man  of  whom 
'twas  said;  '  He  spoke  and  I  believed  him;  he  insisted,  I  doubted 
him;  he  swore,  and  I  knew  it  was  a  lie  '  ?" 

Despite  her  anxiety  Nurjahan  smiled. 

"  And  the  Amirs,  the  nobles  ?     Are  they  there  ?"  she  asked. 

"  They  are  on  their  knees,  Highness.  And  what  the  Emperor 
says  is  law,  what  he  wishes  is  done;  but  they  put  the  words 
into  his  mouth,  the  thoughts  into  his  brain." 

"  Thou  hast  dismissal,"  said  the  Empress  sharply;  she  had 
heard  what  she  wanted.  After  he  had  gone  she  sat  alone  think- 
ing. The  tent  grew  dark,  yet  still  she  sat  thinking,  thinking. 

Had  she  been  bested,  or  had  she  not  been  bested  ? 

So  long  as  she  was  separated  from  Jahangir  her  influence  was 
gone;  but  if  she  were  to  return  to  him  ?  What  then  ? 

So,  as  she  thought,  the  very  hardihood  of  the  idea  appealed 
to  her.  If  she  were  voluntarily  to  put  herself  into  Mohabat's 
power;  if  she  were  to  risk  her  liberty — perhaps  her  life — on  the 
throw  of  the  die — what  then  ? 

And  she  need  not  do  even  this.  Motamid  could  carry  in- 
structions to  the  Emperor,  carefully  worded,  that,  seeing  no  hope 
of  rescuing  the  Shadow  of  God  from  the  sacrilegious  hands  that 
had  been  laid  upon  him,  she,  as  a  dutiful  and  obedient  wife,  was 
coming  back  to  share  his  captivity.  What  then  ? 

The  urgent  desire  in  times  of  great  stress  to  be  alone,  away 
from  the  rest  of  humanity;  to  be  out  in  the  open,  with  nothing 
above  one  save  infinite  space,  which  comes  to  most  of  us,  especially 
to  those  of  vivid  individuality,  drove  her  out  under  the  stars,  to 
stand  and  wonder  at  this  little  life.  So,  after  a  time,  her  eyes 
wandered  from  the  shadow  of  the  world  which  we  call  night  to 
the  twinkling  lights  that  showed  across  the  river. 

No,  she  could  not  admit  defeat  so  easily.  She  would  go 
back  and  resume  her  sway,  let  them  say  what  they  liked  !  She 
would  checkmate  them  with  one  swift  move. 


320  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

She  passed  rapidly  into  the  tent  again,  and  sitting  down, 
wrote  with  her  own  hand  the  following  letter: 

"  Mihr-un-nissa,  whom  the  Light  of  the  World  hath  honoured 
with  many  titles  and  more  kindness,  lays  herself  and  her  life 
before  the  Emperor,  and  craves  an  interview,  that  she  may  tell! 
the  Lord  of  Light  that  she  hath  forgotten  as  well  as  forgiven." 

This  she  gave  to  Motamid,  with  instructions  that  he  was  to  take 
it  across  the  river,  and  not  to  return  until  he  had  succeeded  in 
getting  permission  for  the  interview. 

"  If  it  comes  not  at  all,"  she  said,  "  then  will  I  risk  all.  Mean- 
while I  will  try  wisdom." 

It  was  two  days  ere  the  secretary  returned,  and  she  was  just 
preparing  for  the  final  risk  when  the  lank  figure  and  mournful 
face  appeared,  and  he  brought  back  with  him  a  permit  signed 
in  Jahangir's  own  handwriting,  desiring  that  the  bearer  should 
have  access  to  him  on  presentation. 

"  Lo  !"  said  the  secretary,  "  I  was  long  in  getting  it,  since  they 
scarce  left  me  with  him  alone  for  a  moment.  There  is  a  Rajput 
guard  of  two  that  stays  with  him  day  and  night.  Praise  be  to 
God  !  they  eat  opium  comfits,  and  I  had  a  friend  in  the  buttery 
who  used  what  I  gave  him — but  not  without  payment;  it  cost  ten 
gold  dskrafis." 

"  Ay  !"  interrupted  Nurjahan  impatiently;  "  but  the  Emperor  ? 
Kow  did  he  receive  my  letter  ?" 

Motamid  Khan's  eyes  blinked. 

"  He  wept,  Majesty;  but  he  was  far  gone  in  wine." 

"  It  matters  not,"  cried  Nurjahan  joyfully.  "  Where  tears 
tire,  feeling  is  not  dead  !" 

"  True,"  assented  the  secretary  wisely.  "  Yet,  were  I  Majesty, 
I  would  be  swift  in  action.  Each  day  brings  danger,  and — I  know 
not — but  methinks  some  plot  is  afoot." 

"  Mayhap,"  replied  Nurjahan  nonchalantly;  "  but  they  shall 
not  worst  me.  Yet  go  I  at  once — even  now." 

"  Now  ?"  echoed  the  secretary,  almost  alarmed  at  her  swiftness. 

"  Ay,  now  is  ever  the  best  time  !" 


CHAPTER  XVII 

"  My  heart's  sweet  aloe  wood,  my  love  is  fire, 
My  body  is  the  censer  of  desire. 
Yet  thou,  like  summer  moth,  flitt'st  round  my  flame 
While  I  consume  my  Love  and  so  expire." 

NURJAHAN  and  Mohabat  Khan  stood  looking  at  each  other.  She 
was  dressed  all  in  white,  her  thick  white  veil  drawn  tight  round 
her  oval  face  as  widows  wear  their  shrouds.  She  had  chosen 
this  attire  for  her  interview  with  Jahangir  because  it  was  what  she 
had  worn  on  that  long  past  day  on  which  she  had  covenanted 
to  forgive,  if  she  could  not  forget. 

And  now  that  she  had  promised  to  do  both,  she  strove  to 
awaken  a  memory  of  vanished  manhood  in  the  man  she  strove 
once  more  to  redeem. 

"  Wherefore  am  I  not  to  see  my  lord  ?"  she  asked,  and  her  tone 
was  haughty. 

Mohabat's  strong  intolerant  face  showed  pitiless.  But  one 
short  half  hour  since,  the  Keeper  of  the  Gates  had  brought  him 
word  that  Nurjahan  Padshah  Begum  demanded  admittance, 
and  he  had  sworn  a  big  oath  of  grudging  admiration  for  her 
temerity. 

Then  he  had  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said  to  the  sycophant 
courtiers  who,  seeing  the  trend  of  his  policy,  had  given  it  their 
whole-hearted  approval.  '  'Twill  save  a  mounted  escort,  anyhow. 
Ay  !  and  mayhap  innocent  blood  too,  since  the  woman  hath  still 
followers."  Then  he  turned  to  the  Chamberlain.  "  See  that  she 
be  shown  to  a  fitting  place.  I  will  attend  her  ere  long." 

He  had  delayed  a  while.  Perhaps  even  he,  with  his  light 
estimate  of  womanhood,  did  not  quite  relish  the  task  he  had  to 
perform.  But  it  had  been  decided  in  full  council;  the  Emperor 
— drugged  it  is  true  almost  beyond  consciousness — but  what 
matter  since  Government  would  in  future  be  carried  on  by  male 
wisdom  instead  of  accursed  female  wisdom  acting  through  a 

3-i  21 


322  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

beguiled  Shadow  of  God  ? — had  set  his  seal  to  it,  and  the  warrant 
for  the  execution  of  one  Mihr-un-nissa,  called  Nurmahal  or 
Nurjahan,  was  ready  in  Mohabat's  hand. 

He  gave  it  to  her  without  a  word.  Brave  as  she  was,  the  blood 
curdled  at  her  heart  as  she  read — and  for  a  noticeable  space  she 
caught  in  her  breath  hard  and  the  colour  forsook  her  face,  leaving 
it  of  creamy  pallor. 

"  It  will  be  painless/'  said  the  man  of  iron  and  relentless  will, 

misreading  her  emotion,  "  a  lethal  draught  and  sleep 

The  ludicrous  ineptitude  of  his  words  woke  her  ready  sense  of 
humour,  and  she  laughed  aloud;  but  his  words  also  roused  her 
contempt  and  with  it  her  vitality. 

"  Fool !"  she  said,  and  the  scorn  of  her  tone  cut  even  his  tough 
hide.  "  Judge  not  of  others  by  thine  own  fear  of  death.  What 
matters  it  when  the  Call  comes,  to-day  or  next,  since  come  it 
must  ?  So  that  for  thy  warrant  !" 

And  with  swift  hands  she  tore  the  paper  across  and  flung  the 
pieces  at  his  feet. 

His  face  grew  darker  as  he  bent  to  recover  them.  "  That 
avails  thee  not,  lady,"  he  began,  when  she  interrupted  him  with 
another  mocking  laugh — 

"  Say  not  so  !  O  Mohabat  Khan  !  Prince  of  Deceivers ! 
Thou  hast  had  to  stoop  to  pick  them  up  !" 

He  desisted  from  his  task  abruptly  and  glared  at  her  as  she  went 
on.  "  And  it  avails  thee  not  either.  Bethink  thee  !  Does  not 
the  law  of  the  land — Jahangir's  own  law — mind  you — ordain 
that  no  warrant  for  death  be  carried  out  for  twenty-four  hours 
after  it  be  received  by  the  one  who  is  to  die,  so  that  there  may  be 
due  time  for  appeal  ?  And  is  not  four  and  twenty  hours  sufficient, 
even  for  the  disloyal,  to  carry  out  the  Sovereign's  wishes  ? 
Wishes  not  sealed  only  like  yonder  waste  paper  that  could  be 
stamped  by  a  seal  slipped  from  a  drunken  finger,  but  written  in 
Majesty's  own  hand  ?" 

And  in  her  turn  she  handed  Mohabat  the  Emperor's  passport 
to  his  presence.  Passion  positively  distorted  his  face  as  he  seized 
it,  tore  it  to  fragments  and  scattered  the  pieces  broadcast.  "  That 
for  thy  paper,  woman  !"  he  almost  shouted.  "  Thou  diest, 
and  by  the  Emperor's  orders  !" 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  323 

She  looked  at  him  with  cool  disdain.  "  That  may  or  may  not 
be  !"  she  said  quietly,  "  meanwhile  it  avails  thee  not,  since  I 
stoop  not  to  undo  thy  actions.  Yet  do  I  claim  the  law's  delay. 
Go  !  ask  the  judges  if  I  be  not  right." 

To  a  certain  extent  he  felt  she  had  mastered  him  in  detail, 
and  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  impatiently.  "  What  matters 
it  to-day  or  to-morrow  ?"  he  replied.  "  So  take  thy  respite.  Till 
then  thou  wilt  be  honourably  dealt  with." 

And  with  the  words  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  her. 

To  what  reflections  ?  First,  doubtless  to  thought-distracting 
dread — since  say  what  the  bravest  may,  death  to  vivid  life  must 
ever  be  unwelcome.  But  ere  long  that  vivid  vitality  was  at  work 
striving  to  escape.  They  brought  her  food  and  drink  and  she 
took  both,  feeling  she  would  need  all  the  support  she  could  get  in 
her  battle  against  these  men.  So  by  degrees  her  mind  settled 
on  this.  They  desired  she  should  not  see  the  Emperor,  therefore 
all  her  efforts  must  be  to  secure  an  interview.  But  how  ?  If  she 
could  get  at  Motamid  Khan  the  secretary — she  must  try  !  Finally, 
begging  a  slip  of  paper  and  a  pen,  she  wrote  a  short  petition  to 
the  Chief  Judge,  a  man  whom  she  knew  to  be  one  of  her  bitterest 
enemies,  begging  him  to  allow  her  under  the  law,  as  a  convicted 
criminal,  the  services  of  the  royal  secretary  in  order  that,  ere 
execution,  she  might  have  her  last  wishes  duly  set  down  concern- 
ing her  granddaughter,  who,  by  previous  arrangement  with  the 
Emperor  and  his  son  Shahriyar,  was  to  be  returned  to  her  mother's 
keeping,  there  to  be  brought  up  in  strictest  seclusion  as  canoness, 
in  the  event  of  her  grandmother's  death. 

Ijlt  was  a  deft  bait.  The  problem  of  Shahriyar's  daughter,  who 
had  a  strong  hold  on  the  Emperor's  affection,  would  thus  be  settled 
without  further  action.  Permission  for  Motamid  to  attend 
under  surveillance  was  therefore  given. 

So  much  then  was  gained,  but  Nurjahan,  when  she  faced  a 
friend,  felt  the  hopelessness  of  her  position  more  keenly  than 
when  she  had  been  defying  an  enemy.  Yet,  ere  he  came,  she 
had  her  plan  ready.  Watched  as  they  would  be,  almost  every 
word  they  uttered  overheard,  her  quick  brain  had  had  to  devise 
means  for  conveying  her  wishes  without  exciting  suspicion. 
Mercifully  in  order  to  please  the  Emperor  she  had  learnt  the 


324  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Turkhi  language,  with  which  Motamid  as  secretary  had  also  to  be 
acquainted.  Unknown,  as  it  was,  to  most  of  the  courtiers  and 
to  all  the  servants,  she  was  able  when  giving  the  address  of  her 
daughter  to  say  rapidly  a  word  or  two  which  were  sufficient  to 
put  the  secretary  on  the  watch  for  more.  So  with  infinite  in- 
genuity she  gave  her  directions.  Under  her  veil  she  still  wore 
some  valuable  jewels;  these  she  removed,  and  giving  into  her 
chief  janitor's  keeping  those  which  she  said  belonged  of  rights 
to  the  Emperor,  she  handed  the  remainder  to  Motamid;  taking 
the  opportunity  afforded  by  the  swift  greed  of  the  former  to  pass 
unobserved  under  the  latter's  flowing  coatee  something  small  and 
hard,  which  with  the  quick  comprehension  of  the  Eastern,  to 
whom  such  contrivings  are  the  salt  of  life,  he  ignored  for  the 
time,  his  ears  attuned  to  every  word  she  uttered. 

"  See  that  they  be  given  correctly  and  at  once,"  she  said, 
slowly  emphasizing  some  words  rather  unduly,  "  to  those  to 
whom  of  right  they  belong  as  my  last  gifts ;  with  much  grief  and 
many  regrets  I  may  not  see  them  again,  though  of  a  truth  I 
know  how  earnestly  they  will  desire  it,  as  do  I,  Mihr-un-nissa 
whom  in  childhood  they  called  Meru.  And  bid  them,  if  they 
give  way  to  grief  and  anger  at  this  deprivation,  as  likely  they  will, 
to  lay  the  blame  where  blame  is  due,  since  I  have  prayed  and  my 
prayer  has  not  been  answered.  Therefore  is  it  God's  will." 

Her  rich  clear  voice  did  not  falter.  She  waited  till  the  flourish- 
ing hand  paused,  poised  over  the  ink-pot,  then  said  shortly: 
"  That  is  all — stay  !"  she  added  with  a  faint  smile.  "  I  have 
given  thee  no  reward  for  thy  labours,  and  I  have  nought  left  save 
this."  She  passed  over  a  small,  silver-filagree  vinaigrette  such 
as  most  women  of  high  rank  wear  attached  to  their  wrist  bangle. 
"It  is  at  least  something.  Lo  !  writers  such  as  thou  have  oft 
tired  confused  brains,  and  there  is  a  powder  in  it  that  is  efficacious 
to  bring  clearness.  I  have  oft  used  it  for" — she  paused;  then 
went  on,  "  but  that  is  over.  See  you,  so  much  as  will  be  upon 
a  thumb  nail  in  a  cupful  of  wine — wine  is  ever  pleasant — will 
clear  the  brain  marvellous.  And  thou  canst  take  more  in  half 
an  hour's  time,  without  harm,  if  the  first  suffice  not.  'Tis  all  I 
have  to  offer.  Lo  !  I  brought  it  to  use  myself,  but  I  shall  need 
it  no  more.  Farewell,  and  may  the  blessing  of  the  Most  High 
attend  all !" 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  325 

She  stood,  tall,  slender,  still  beautiful,  and  Motamid  as  he 
left  her,  the  tears  rolling  down  his  sallow  face,  felt  mingled  sorrow 
and  awe  at  her  dignity,  her  supreme  wit,  her  unshrinking  courage. 

The  latter  nerved  him  to  effort,  as  safe  in  his  own  small  tent 
he  undid  the  little  parcel  she  had  conveyed  to  him  so  deftly  and 
which,  with  the  Eastern  instinct  of  conspiracy,  he  had  as  deftly 
concealed. 

It  contained  the  ruby  cup. 

A  thousand  times  he  had  seen  it  used;  and  now  with  this  clue, 
her  words  became  plain.  He  was  to  put  some  of  the  powder 
into  wine,  and  filling  the  cup;  give  it  to  the  Emperor  as  the  last 
gift  from  Nurjahan — nay  !  from  one  whom  in  childhood  had  been 
called  Meru 

Nay  !  further 

It  was  to  be  given  twice.  It  had  no  taste — it  was  to  be  given 
after  half  an  hour 

Bit  by  bit  the  meaning  of  Nurjahan's  carefully  guarded  words 
came  home  to  him.  So  much  for  the  powder — it  was  to  be  given 
twice;  but  the  cup  ?  The  cup  was  to  be  given  with  regret  that 
the  giver  was  prevented  from  giving  it  in  person.  The  blame  for 
this,  the  anger  for  this,  was  to  be  poured  out  where  anger  was 
due  ! 

As  he  sat  there,  looking  at  the  ruby  cup,  he  understood.  Nur- 
jahan, in  whose  keeping  it  was  ever,  had  brought  it  with  her, 
as  she  had  brought  the  tasteless  powder  which  cleared  the  brain, 
especially  to  be  able  to  administer  the  dose  to  the  Emperor 
herself.  Now  he  was  commissioned  to  do  so.  And  he  was  com- 
missioned also  to  arouse  anger — if  he  could. 

Since  he  had  returned  from  over  the  river  to  his  normal  duties, 
Motamid  had  been  careful  to  curry  favour  with  Mohabat  and  his 
party — in  no  other  way  could  he  have  secured  access  to  the 
Emperor.  And  he  had  been  still  more  careful  to  avoid  the 
discovery  of  his  visit  over  the  river  to  Nurjahan.  Thus  far  he 
was  not  suspect;  and  his  friend  in  the  buttery  might  help. 

So,  on  the  pretence  that  he  had  urgent  papers  which  required 
the  royal  seal,  he  sat  down  in  the  anteroom  tent  where  dozens  of 
other  claimants  on  the  royal  leisure  waited. 

"  Majesty  can  transact  no  business,"  said  a  eunuch,  his  tongue 
in  his  cheek.  "  It  sleeps." 


326  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

There  was  a  faint  murmur,  half  chuckle,  from  those  who 
waited;  but  Motamid  spoke  up. 

"  Lo  !  sleep  or  no  sleep,  my  business  is  but  with  the  royal  seal, 
and  sleep  or  no  sleep,  it  can  stamp  a  paper.  Let  me  in,  I  pray 
thee,  for  I  need  no  speech  of  Majesty." 

The  eunuch  laughed.  "  If  thou  didst,  thou  wouldst  get  none. 
He  is  most  blind  drunk,  and  but  now  hath  called  for  more  wine." 

Motamid  accelerated  his  steps.  "  Then  let  me  at  him  ere  he 
drinks,"  he  said.  "  Else  may  I  be  here  all  night." 

As  he  entered  the  inner  alcove  tent,  where  a  brazier  full  of 
perfumes  was  sending  out  a  faint  blue  smoke  that,  added  to  the 
heat  of  the  enclosed  air,  seemed  to  bring  slumber  with  it,  he  saw 
the  Emperor  lying  prone  on  a  richly  embroidered  divan,  while 
beside  him  stood  a  wine-bearer  in  the  act  of  pouring  out  another 
goblet  of  wine. 

"  A  moment,  friend  !"  whispered  the  secretary.     "  I  need  but 
three  impressions  of  the  royal  seal  and  methinks  the  Emperor, 
even  as  he  is,  hath  enough  for  the  task."     And  hastily  he  pros- 
trated himself  and  told  his  errand. 
Jahangir  looked  at  him  stupidly. 

"  What  wantest  thou  ?  My  signet  ring  ?  Then  take  it,  fool, 
and  be  damned  to  thee  !"  he  said.  "  So  be  it  is  not  for  death. 
Nay  !  Nay  !  Jahangir  seals  the  death  warrants  of  himself — 
but  quick,  slave  !  I  need  my  wine." 

Motamid  hurriedly  drew  forth  his  papers  and  fumbled  for  his 
ink,  his  flurry  gaining  on  him. 

"  Lo  !  idiot !  slave  !  fool— what  is  it  ?  Why  this  delay  ?" 
roared  Jahangir,  growing  more  and  more  indistinct. 

"  The  ink,  Highness  !"  faltered  Motamid,  "  I  have  forgot  the 
ink  1" 

"  Ink  !  Ink  !"  echoed  Majesty  in  half-drunken  anger.  "  Go 
to — is  there  no  ink  in  the  royal  tents  ?  Bring  it,  slaves  !  Quick ! 
Ink  !  Ink  !  Ink  !" 

A  second  afterwards  Motamid  breathed  again.  In  the  bustle 
he  had  contrived  to  slip  so  much  as  would  lie  on  a  thumb  nail 
of  the  powder  into  the  goblet  which  the  wine-bearer  had  hastily 
set  down  in  order  to  do  his  irate  master's  bidding. 

So  far,  so  good  ! 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  327 

But  for  the  rest  ?     There  was  nothing  for  it  save  boldness. 

"  I  stay  here,"  he  whispered  to  the  eunuch  when  with  great 
difficulty  he  had  got  Jahangir  to  affix  his  seal  to  several  quite 
innocuous  papers.  "  I  have  other  business  to  transact.  Mayhap 
when  Majesty  awakes  he  may  be  more  fit.  Meanwhile  I 
write " 

He  sat  himself  down  by  the  couch  as  he  spoke  and  began 
on  work. 

"  As  thou  pleaseth/'  replied  the  eunuch  grudgingly;  "  but 
Majesty  will  not  wake  these  two  hours.  "Tis  easier  work  watching 
now  than  when  that  she-cat  was  ever  after  us."  And  with  a 
yawn  he  passed  from  the  alcove  and  sat  down  to  dice  with  his 
companions  beyond  the  curtain. 

Majesty  would  not  wake  for  two  hours,  thought  Motamid 
with  a  sinking  heart.  Fortune  had  favoured  him  so  far;  but 
what  if  the  powder  failed  of  effect  ? 

So,  as  he  sat,  he  remembered  that  if  he  were  to  give  a  second 
dose,  he  had  better  make  sure  of  having  wine  wherein  to  give  it. 

The  ewer-bearer  had  left  the  flagon  on  the  salver  beside  the 
royal  couch;  but  had  taken  the  goblet  away  to  rinse  it. 

There  was,  however,  always  the  ruby  cup. 

And  with  the  thought  came  supreme  satisfaction  at  the  idea 
to  which  it  gave  birth;  an  idea  he  had  failed  to  grip  from  Nur- 
jahan's  necessarily  halting  instructions,  but  which,  he  felt  sure 
now,  she  had  intended.  Yes,  he  would  give  the  next  dose  in 
the  ruby  cup,  and  that  would  naturally  bring  about  explanations ; 
at  any  rate,  if  the  drug  worked. 

.  So  after  filling  the  little  cup  and  placing  it  ready,  he  sat  down 
again  to  watch  and  wait. 

Supposing  the  drug  had  no  effect  ?  Yet  that  was  not  likely. 
For  years  the  Empress  had  been,  as  it  were,  Jahangir's  physician 
in  chief.  She  had  great  experience.  She  had  brought  this  drug 
with  her,  evidently  intending  to  use  it,  as  she  had  doubtless  used 
it  before.  Besides,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait  and  hope. 

So,  in  the  semi-darkness  of  the  alcove,  he  sat  silent,  watching 
the  heavy  face  that  lay  so  stupidly  among  the  gorgeous  cushions. 

And  outside  in  the  wide  tent,  servants  laughed  in  low  tones, 
while  the  click  of  dice  and  the  chink  of  money  could  be  heard 


328  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

above  the  human  voices,  dominating  them  with  the  curious  power 
these  two  inanimate  sounds  have  ever. 

Time  was  passing,  and  Motamid's  hopes  were  waning,  when 
suddenly  Jahangir  sat  up. 

"  Slave  !"  he  called  in  a  loud,  fairly  clear  voice.  "  Wine  ! 
Dost  hear  ?  Wine  !" 

In  a  second  the  cup-bearer  was  at  his  post;  but  Motamid  was 
before  him;  the  little  ruby  cup  was  in  the  Emperor's  hand. 
Mechanically,  as  from  a  habit  borne  of  long  usage,  he  carried  it 
to  his  mouth  and  drank  the  contents. 

But  then  memory  stepped  in,  and  he  paused,  half  raised  among 
the  cushions,  looking  at  what  he  held. 

"  How  came  it  here  ?"   he  asked  thickly.     "  Where  is  the 

Empress  ?     I — I  forget " 

Motamid  was  in  the  dust  at  his  feet. 

"  Sire  !"  he  began,  "  this  slave  has  a  message."  Here  the 
eunuchs  interposed,  but  Jahangir  with  one  wave  of  his  despotic 
hand,  one  swift  frown  of  anger,  stopped  their  interference. 

"  Deliver  it,"  he  said  dreamily,  turning  his  eyes  again  to  the 
familiar  object.  Then  he  added  in  a  sharper  tone:  "  Why  comes 
she  not  herself  ?  Will  she  not  obey  ?  Hath  she  also  rebelled 

against  me  ? — as  they  said  when  they  bade  me — but  I  forget 

And  his  voice  tailed  off  again  to  drowsiness. 

For  one  instant  Motamid  thought  of  repeating  exactly  what 
Nurjahan  had  told  him;  then  he  realized  that  something  sharper, 
more  primitive,  than  sentiment  concerning  childhood  might  be 
needed  to  pierce  that  sodden,  drugged  brain,  and  with  a  sudden 
flash  of  inspiration  he  told  the  truth. 

"  Nay,  my  lord !"  he  said  boldly.  "  Nurjahan  Padshah 
Begum  is  as  ever  faithful  to  the  Emperor.  'Tis  the  rebels  will 
not  let  her  come.  'Tis  Mohabat  who  hath  denied  her  entrance, 
even  though  she  bears  with  her  the  sign-manual  of  Jahangir." 

He  had  hit  the  mark.  In  an  instant,  still  befogged  though  he 
was,  all  the  former's  arrogance,  his  intolerance  of  control,  had  been 
aroused.  He  started  to  his  feet,  swaying  a  little  it  is  true,  yet 
with  distinct  purpose,  and  stood  there,  still  a  fine  figure  of  a  man, 
though  bent  and  broken. 
"  What !"  he  cried  furiously.  "  Doth  Mohabat  dare  ?  Hath 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  329 

he  refused  ?  Before  God,  am  I  not  the  judge  ?  Shall  I  not  do 
what  seemeth  me  right  ?"  Then  he  turned  on  the  officials  of  the 
bodyguard,  who,  hearing  voices,  had  crowded  in.  "  Is  this  true, 
slaves  ?  Hath  Mohabat  dared ?" 

He  swayed  and  almost  fell;  but  Motamid,  at  his  right  hand, 
saw  with  a  thrill  of  hope  that  he  steadied  himself  with  an  effort. 
Ere  long  that  second  dose  would  begin  to  work — he  must  have 
as  much  time  as  possible. 

"  Yea  !  0  Most  Mighty,"  began  the  secretary  with  a  com- 
mendable boldness,  since  if  he  failed  death  was  his  sure  portion. 
"  I,  Motamid  Khan,  secretary  to  the  Lord  of  Light,  proclaim  it. 
Lo  !  did  not  the  Shadow  of  God  with  his  own  hand  write  a  permit  ? 
and  did  I  not  see  the  fragments  of  it  lying  torn  on  the  ground 
where  Mohabat's  sacrilegious  hand  had  dared  to  scatter 
them  ?" 

He  had  almost  gone  beyond  the  mark.  Jahangir  looked  at  him 
sillily.  "  Thou  liest,  slave,"  he  said;  "  he  would  not  dare  !" 

"  Let  the  Lord  of  Light  ask  him  if  it  be  not  true,"  cried  Motamid, 
feeling  that  every  instant  of  delay  was  precious. 

"  Ay  !"  replied  the  Emperor  with  the  sageness  of  half-sobriety. 
"  There  thou  speakest  sense.  Send  for  Mohabat,  slaves  !  Bid 
him  to  the  Presence  at  once  !" 

And  with  the  words,  as  if  they  absorbed  all  his  powers  mentally 
and  bodily,  he  sank  back  among  his  cushions  and  so  remained, 
his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ruby  cup,  which  he  still  held. 

God  send  !  prayed  Motamid  in  his  heart,  it  might  bring  remem- 
brance; at  any  rate  the  pause  gave  time  for  the  second  dose  of 
the  drug  to  work. 

And  it  did  work.  When  Mohabat  Khan  after  some  delay 
entered  the  alcove,  Jahangir  sat  up  ready  with  instant,  autocratic 
blame.  "  Didst  dare,  slave,  to  deny  entrance  to  one  who  carried 
my  permit  ?"  he  asked.  "  Wherefore  ?" 

But  Mohabat  was  ready  with  his  answer.  "  Because  after 
Majesty  had  given  the  permit  he  had  condemned  the  bearer  to 
deserved  death." 

Jahangir,  startled,  stood  for  an  instant  utterly  befogged. 

"  Condemned  to  death !"  he  muttered.  "  Nay — we  did  talk 
of  it — but — I "  He  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow  as  if 


33°  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

• 

to  clear  his  brain.  "  I  meant  not  surely — I — I  cannot  re- 
member." 

But  Mohabat  was  inexorable.  "The  royal  seal  was  affixed; 
so  the  one  order  counteracted  the  other,  and  I  acted  as  was  fit." 

Something  there  was  in  the  arrogance  of  his  tone  that  roused 
Jahangir's  instant  resentment.  "  Who  made  thee  judge,  slave  ?" 
he  burst  out.  "  Am  I  not  the  Shadow  of  God  ?  Send  for  the 
woman — be  she  what  she  may — forthwith.  Dost  hear  ?" 

Mohabat  took  a  step  nearer  to  the  Emperor.  "  Majesty  !" 
he  protested  in  a  low  voice,  "  this  is  not  wise  !  Did  we  not 
discuss  this  ? — hath  it  not  been  settled  ?  Doth  not  Majesty  desire 
untrammelled  freedom  ?" 

"  God's  curse  upon  thee,  fool !"  cried  the  monarch,  his  brain 
rising  to  the  sarcasm.  "  Then  give  it  me.  Lo  !  I  desire  to  see 
this  woman — to  tell  her  of  her  faults — to  upbraid  her — to  say 
what  thou  hast  said — to  " — his  eyes  were  on  the  ruby  cup  again — 
"  to  explain."  Then  sheer  anger  returned.  "  Send  for  her,  or 
by  my  kingship  thou  diest !" 

And  once  again  he  sank  back  among  his  cushions,  his  face  work- 
ing with  the  mingled  passions  of  regret  and  resentment;  so  for  a 
space  there  was  silence  in  the  tent.  For  even  with  a  criminal 
condemned  to  death  the  Court  proprieties  must  be  preserved  in 
the  Emperor's  presence;  and  this  one  was  a  lady  of  high  rank. 
Even  Motamid  had  slunk  away,  and  Mohabat's  voice  came  dis- 
creetly from  beyond  the  curtain,  when  after  five  minutes'  delay 
he  said: 

"  Highness,  the  woman  is  here." 

Jahangir  rose  on  the  instant.  He  was  now  almost  sober — 
in  truth,  the  sudden  realization  of  what  lay  before  him  was 
enough  to  sober  any  man.  What  had  he  done  ?  Was  it  true  ? 
He  stood  drawn  up  to  his  full  height,  kinglike,  dignified;  but 
he  still  held  the  ruby  cup  in  his  right  hand,  and  his  eyes  were 
fixed  on  it.  Then  he  raised  them  and  looked  at  the  white 
figure  that  stood  quietly  among  the  shadows  waiting;  so  had 
she  stood — oh  God,  how  often  !  So  had  she  looked 

There  was  a  long,  long  silence. 

Then  one  word  and  one  word  only  broke  it. 

"  Meru  !" 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  331 

It  was  enough.  The  drugged  dream  had  vanished.  Jahangir 
was  once  more  in  the  Gold  Scattering  Garden  where  Love  had 
flitted  from  the  listless  hand  of  Fate. 


"  'Tis  not  for  the  Emperor  of  all  the  Indies  to  ask  in  vain," 
said  the  discomfited  Mohabat  ten  minutes  later,  "  but  the  lady 
must  promise  not  to  interfere  again  in  the  business  of  the  State." 

"  Ay,  ay,"  returned  the  Emperor  joyously,  "  that  will  she  do 
gladly,  her  only  care  being  for  me  and  my  health.  Lo  !  friend, 
I  should  have  died  without  it." 

And  Mohabat,  as  he  went  off  to  discuss  the  position  with  his 
friends,  while  he  admitted  the  truth  of  what  Jahangir  had  said, 
was  by  no  means  sure  how  to  regard  the  fact.  The  Emperor's 
speedy  death  in  one  way  might  be  a  consummation  greatly  to  be 
desired;  but  it  certainly  would  have  put  an  end  to  his,  Mohabat's, 
power;  for  Shahjahan  would  tolerate  no  interference.  So 
perhaps,  after  all,  if  only  the  woman  would  keep  her  finger  out 
of  the  pie  of  public  affairs,  the  present  arrangement  might  be 
better. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

My  bird  is  weary  with  imprisonment, 

My  soul  is  sad  with  disillusionment. 

Oh,  Hafiz  !  leave  the  Wherefore  and  the  How. 

God  knows!     So  drink  Thy  Wine  and  be  content." 

THE  record  of  the  next  days  could  never  be  adequately  written. 
It  is  hardly  possible  even  for  the  imagination  to  grip  the  agony 
they  must  have  brought  to  one  of  Nurjahan's  nature.  The  weak- 
ness of  the  man  who  loved  her  was,  it  is  true,  no  new  knowledge ; 
none  the  less,  it  must  have  been  hard  to  bear.  That  he  was  re- 
morseful goes  without  saying;  but  that,  even  when  bedrugged 
and  befogged,  he  should  have  consented  to  the  undoing  of  the 
princess  to  whom  he  had  given  his  unreserved  confidence  must 
have  been  to  him  almost  pathetically  incredible.  So  it  must 
have  bred  resentment.  Doubtless  in  those  days,  with  nerves 
racked  by  debauchery,  maudlin  by  turns  over  his  wrongs  and  his 
self-reproach,  Jahangir  must  have  been  difficult  to  guide.  But 
Nurjahan's  firm  hand  never  wavered.  It  is  almost  appalling  to 
think  what  it  must  have  meant  to  her.  To  begin  with  she  had 
to  resign  all  outward  show  of  power  and  take  a  place  simply  as 
the  Emperor's  favourite  Sultana.  Yet  she  did  not  flinch;  she 
bided  her  time. 

In  all  her  varied  life  no  greater  sign  of  power  shows  than  this, 
that  the  journey  to  Kabul  was  resumed  as  if  nothing  had  occurred 
to  interfere  with  its  smooth,  ordinary  course. 

And  every  day  must  have  lessened  the  strain,  as  Jahangir 
regained  control  over  his  nerves  and  his  spirits.  After  a  while, 
indeed,  he  began  to  discredit  Mohabat's  tale  of  a  death  warrant 
altogether.  Whether  he  had  signed  one  or  not,  however  ,|^it 
was  quite  clear  that  he  had  never  meant  to  carry  it  into  execution. 
The  very  thought  was  preposterous.  And  with  this  Nurjahan 
agreed.  She  had  had  no  fear,  she  said;  and  this  indeed  was 
true  in  a  way,  for  fear  seems  to  have  been  unknown  to  her. 

332 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  333 

Besides,  as  Jahangir,  with  the  easy  palliation  of  his  easy  nature, 
would  say,  no  matter  what  had  happened  there  was  no  question 
that  life  was  more  pleasant  now  that  both  he  and  she  had  for- 
sworn public  affairs,  and,  leaving  all  to  Mohabat,  could  devote 
themselves  to  each  other. 

To  which  Nurjahan,  reverting  to  her  role  of  Nurmahal,  the 
Light  of  the  Home,  would  smile  bewilderingly;  but  when  she  was 
alone  her  lip  would  set — she  was  biding  her  time. 

So  the  slow  months  of  the  Imperial  march  crept  on,  and  when 
they  ended  the  peach-trees  were  abloom  round  Kabul  city,  the 
tulips  were  ablaze  on  the  green  lawns,  and  in  the  Shahara  gardens 
the  leafless  Judas-trees  flushed  rosy  purple  to  the  tiniest  twig. 

"  Truly,  dear  heart,"  said  Jahangir  almost  rapturously,  as 
from  his  great-grandfather's  tomb  he  looked  out  over  the  fair 
prospect  at  his  feet.  "  'Tis  not  the  Pleasant  Land,  yet  do  I 
nowhere  feel  so  virtuous  as  at  Kabul.  'Tis  the  air,  methinks  !" 

"  Mayhap/'  replied  Nurjahan  absently.  She  was  watching 
the  Gifted  Lady  playing  with  her  dolls,  and  there  was  a  troubled 
look  on  her  beautiful  face;  but  it  seemed  younger  than  ever, 
for  the  last  few  months  of  comparative  rest  had  been  physically 
good  for  her. 

"  Nay  !"  put  in  a  thin  old  voice,  "  'tis  heredity.  'Tis  not 
possible  to  escape  it.  What  doth  Firdus  say  ?"  And  the  speaker, 
with  much  show  of  elocution,  recited  the  well-known  lines : 

"  A  tree  that  is  bitter  by  nature, 
If  planted  on  Paradise  soil, 
Will  never,  I  swear,  compensate  your 
Long  labour,  your  care  and  your  toil. 
If  you  pour  on  its  rootlets  pure  honey 
And  give  it  the  Water  of  Life, 
It's  fruit  at  the  best  will  be  funny, 
And  not  worth  the  cut  of  a  knife  !" 

And  old  Khanzada  Racquiya  Begum  lay  back  in  her  little  carry- 
ing chair  somewhat  breathless.  She  was  inconceivably  old  for 
an  Indian  woman,  but  she  had  begged  so  hard  to  be  allowed 
another  sight  of  her  ancestors'  graves  that  Jahangir  had  consented 
to  bring  her  along  with  the  camp;  and  she  was  wonderfully  spry, 
wonderfully  alive  for  her  years. 

Jahangir  laughed.     "  'Tis  not  complimentary,  ainma-jan,"  he 
said  cheerfully. 


334  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

"  And  'tis  not  even  true/'  interposed  Nurjahan,  her  eyes  still 
upon  the  little  girl  and  her  dolls.  It  was  a  pretty  picture,  for 
the  child  was  beautiful  as  an  angel;  yet  when  her  grandmother 
called  to  ask  her  if  she  were  content,  the  face  which  looked  up 
from  the  play  was  sweet,  placid  beyond  compare,  but  it  lacked 
much  expression. 

"  Yea,"  replied  the  little  lass.  "  I  play  with  my  dolls.  Goolu 
is  getting  married." 

"  Why  dost  not  play  with  thy  cousins  yonder  ?"  continued 
Nurjahan,  pointing  to  two  boys,  the  youngest  about  nine,  who 
were  amusing  themselves  with  a  ball  a  little  way  off.  They  were 
Shahjahan's  sons,  who  had  been  sent  as  sureties  for  their  father's 
good  behaviour,  and  who  were  treated  by  the  kindly  Emperor 
as  his  own  children.  The  elder,  Dara  Shukoh,  was  a  fine,  tall 
lad,  the  younger,  Aurungzebe,  small,  somewhat  wizen,  with  a 
sharp  cunning  face. 

The  Gifted  Lady  gave  them  a  glance,  then  drew  her  tiny  veil 
together  with  great  decorum.  "  I  do  not  play  with  boys,"  she 
said  demurely.  "  I  am  a  girl,  and  girls  are  different." 

"  Shahbash,  little  one !"  applauded  Jahangir.  "  Ay,  that 
they  are;  and  'tis  best  that  they  remain  so;"  he  looked  over 
almost  pathetically  at  the  woman  who  had  done  a  man's  work 
for  so  many  years.  "  Dost  not  think,  dearest,  that  we  have 
been  happy  these  last  six  months  ?" 

"  Yea,  happy  indeed,"  she  answered;  and  in  a  way  it  was  true. 
What  need  to  tell  him  that  almost  her  every  thought  was  coloured 
by  an  insistent  design  to  oust  the  traitor  Mohabat  from  his 
sovereign's  regard  and  the  self-chosen  position  of  Prime  Minister, 
and  resume  it  herself  ?  "  Ay,  happy  indeed.  And  would  all 
Majesty's  subjects  were  as  content !  But  I  hear  much  complaint 

of  the  Vizier's  harshness "  She  said  these  things  constantly 

of  aforethought. 

"  'Tis  necessary  at  times,"  replied  Jahangir  gravely.  "  Yet 
will  I  warn  him — on  your  words — to  be  as  lenient  as  he  can. 
Lo  !  I  tell  him  all  that  I  hear,  to  show  my  confidence." 

And  Nurjahan's  averted  face  showed  a  slow  smile.  This  was 
what  she  wanted.  Such  confidence  must  needs  put  a  man  off  his 
guard. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  335 

Old  Racquiya,  who  was  seated  with  her  almost  bald  head  bare 
to  the  soft  wind — for  they  were  a  family  party,  even  the  servants 
withdrawn  to  a  respectful  distance — seemed  to  have  got  no  further 
in  comprehension  than  her  stepson's  profession  of  happiness. 

"  Yea,  yea  !"  she  assented.  "  It  hath  been  happy.  Hath  it 
not  brought  to  Majesty  the  best  gift  this  world  can  give — the 
repentance  of  an  erring  son  ?  Yea,  yea  !  How  my  old  heart 
rejoiced  when  I  heard  Shahjahan,  on  the  instant  of  hearing  of 
Mohabat's  rebellion,  set  out  to  rescue  the  Emperor  !" 

Jahangir  looked  doubtful.  "  Wouldst  call  it  a  rebellion, 
mother  ?"  he  began,  and  Nurjahan  hastened  with  diplomacy. 

"  Yea,  Shahjahan  hath  redeemed  much;  and  his  boys  are  good 
lads." 

But  Racquiya,  old  as  she  was,  was  still  remarkable  for  decisive 
opinions. 

"  I  offer  excuse,"  she  said  with  a  sniff,  "  but  in  my  poor  opinion 
the  elder  is  a  fool,  the  younger  a  knave.  Mark  my  words,  he  will 
make  an  evil  name  for  himself.  He  hath  Chagatai  blood  in 
him,  doubtless,  but  'tis  over-watered — but  there  !  with  due 
deference  I  am  but  old." 

And  there  were  ready  tears  in  the  old  eyes. 

"  We  all  be  old  here,  we  three,  0  kind  one,"  said  Nurjahan 
gently,  laying  her  hand  as  gently  on  the  wrinkled  one,  so  thin,  so 
worn  with  long  life. 

"  Old  ?"  echoed  the  older  woman  tartly.  "  Lo  !  thou  art  but 
seven  and  fifty,  and  I  close  on  my  nineties.  Out  on  thee  !  And 
never  a  grey  strand  in  thy  beautiful  hair  !" 

"  Old  ?"  echoed  the  Emperor  almost  wonderingly.  "  Yea, 
I  am  old,  as  the  mother  sayeth.  Ay,  and  ailing  too — but  thou  ?" 
He  paused  as  if  faced  by  fact,  then  shook  his  head.  "  To  me, 
dearest,  thou  never  canst  be  old,  Light  of  my  Life." 

And  his  hand  found  hers. 

Little  Gifted  Lady,  the  doll  bride  on  her  arm,  came  up  and 
looked  at  them  with  her  solemn  dark  eyes. 

"  Lo  !  I  will  play  handy-pandy  too,"  she  said  gravely.  So 
there  under  the  Judas-trees,  beside  the  grave  of  Babar — the  man 
with  the  joyous  child-heart  whose  brief  epitaph  records  that 
Heaven  is  his  eternal  home — these  four — the  childless  old  woman, 


336  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

the  passionate  man-lover,  the  woman  who  knew  not  what  love 
meant,  and  the  little  child  whose  baby  thoughts  were  with 
marriage,  played  the  game  which  children  love  all  over  the 
world;  and  laughter,  soft  and  gay,  rose  up  among  the  flush  of 
flowers. 

Truly,  as  the  Emperor  said,  they  were  very  happy. 

But  Nurjahan  was  simply  biding  her  time  to  strike  a  blow  for 
her  former  position. 

Up  till  now,  the  presence  of  the  army  of  Rajputs  had  made  all 
attempts  to  oust  Mohabat  impossible;  besides,  the  Emperor,  too 
lazy  to  take  trouble  himself,  and  curiously  unwilling  to  revert 
to  the  old  arrangement,  found  the  clever,  arrogant,  intolerant 
man  a  great  stand-by.  Of  late,  however,  the  unbridled  licentious- 
ness of  these  same  soldiers  had  brought  about  a  fierce  fight  with 
the  hot-headed  Afghans,  which  resulted  in  the  force  being  almost 
decimated;  for  the  Kabuli  tolerates  no  meddling  with  his  women. 
Following  on  this  had  come  desertions  from  an  army  and  a  country 
in  which  the  mercenary's  recognized  amusements  were  disallowed ; 
the  result  being  that  Mohabat's  bodyguard  was  reduced  to  half 
its  original  number.  Yet  still  he  kept  his  hold  on  the  Amirs 
and  the  nobles,  while  the  Court,  almost  to  a  man,  was  in  favour  of 
anyone  who  would  keep  it  from  falling  again  under  a  woman's 
rule. 

Beneath  the  mask  of  peace  and  happiness,  however,  Nurjahan 
was  at  work. 

Those  long  years  of  power  had  left  their  inevitable  mark  upon 
her;  and  then  she  was  passionately  resentful  at  the  effect  which 
even  those  few  days  of  organized  excess  had  had  upon  the  man 
whose  health  had  been  her  chief  care.  Do  what  she  would,  the 
evil  asserted  and  reasserted  itself  in  ever  renewed  attacks  of  his 
old  enemy.  She  could  not  blind  herself  to  the  fact  that  in  all 
probability  those  few  days  had  taken  years  from  his  life. 

And  his  unchanging  love  had  made  him  very  dear  to  her. 
She  would  sit  and  look  at  him  sometimes,  when,  at  his  best,  he 
was  playing  with  the  child,  or  instructing  Shahjahan's  boys  in  the 
art  of  venery,  and  wonder  why  she  did  not  love  him  as  a  woman 
loves  a  man.  But  she  did  not.  She  never  attempted  to  disguise 
the  fact  from  herself;  she  accepted  it. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  337 

In  a  way  it  put  a  keener  edge  to  her  resentment  against  the 
man  who  had  done  him  an  injury.  She  knew  that  she  did  not 
give  Jahangir  all  he  ought  to  have,  and  this  made  her  the  less 
tolerant  of  the  loss  others  might  inflict  upon  him. 

And  all  the  time  the  knowledge  that  she,  a  woman,  was  alone 
against  all  these  men  spurred  her  to  an  almost  savage  resistance. 

She  had  so  few  friends  whom  she  could  trust.  Asof  her  brother 
had  been  made,  and  was  still  held,  a  prisoner  by  Mohabat ;  e vea 
so,  was  he  to  be  trusted  ?  She  was  not  sure.  Fedai  Khan  had 
never  returned  to  Court  after  his  ineffectual  attempt  at  rescue; 
perhaps  as  well,  for  the  Emperor  still  spoke  with  resentment  of 
the  arrows  that  had  fallen  upon'  his  couch  !  Motamid  the 
secretary,  who  had  done  so  much  to  save  her  life,  was  less  ready 
to  aid  any  return  to  power. 

But  one  of  the  royal  eunuchs,  by  name  Hoshyar  Khan,  was  a 
distant  kinsman  of  Fedai's,  and  had  in  addition  a  cause  of  quarrel 
with  Mohabat.  That  was  the  worst  of  it  !  Without  some 
personal  axe  to  grind,  no  one's  service  was  secure. 

Still,  quite  undaunted,  she  laid  her  plans  carefully;  the  first 
thing  to  be  done  being  to  secure  at  least  an  equal  force  on  her 
side.  Mohabat  had  mercenaries ;  why  not  she  ?  Her  revenues 
were  large;  and  stretching  away  through  the  Salt  Range  on  the 
edge  of  which  the  fortress  of  Rhotas  stood,  to  the  very  foot  of  the 
Kabul  hills,  lay  the  Ghakker  country.  Now  the  Ghakkers  were 
a  wild  predatory  tribe  which  had  never  been  reduced  to  real 
obedience.  The  fine  old  fort — supposed  to  be  impregnable — 
had  been  built  to  keep  them  in  order  and  between  bounds. 

Here,  then,  lay  her  chance.  As  the  inheritress  of  her  father's 
fief  she  had  a  right  to  a  contingent  at  the  periodical  reviews; 
but  she  took  care  to  have  this  as  meagre  as  possible. 

"  Thou  shouldst  bid  thy  agent  enlist  more,  dearest,"  quoth  the 
Emperor,  "  if  it  hurts  thy  pride  so  to  see  thy  contingent  reduced. 
Yet  of  what  good  is  it  to  thee,  being  woman  ?  Lo  !  cannot  the 
Shadow  of  God  shelter  thee  sufficiently  ? 

"  Ay  !"  she  would  reply  with  a  smile.  "  'Tis  enough  for 
myself  truly;  but  there  be  others  in  the  world.  And  I  have  issued 
orders  to  enlist;  for  see  you,  my  lord,  Mohabat  is  of  use,  doubtless, 
but  he  brooks  no  interference.  Did  he  not  check  my  lord's  going 


338  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

forth  without  a  Rajput  guard  even  on  a  shooting  expedition  ? 
'Tis  beyond  the  province  of  a  Vizier  whatever.  In  my  father's 
time — ay,  and  in  mine,  as  the  Emperor  knows — his  freedom 
was  secure." 

So  with  deft  hints  and  every  means  at  her  disposal,  she  strove 
to  influence  Jahangir. 

And  every  now  and  again  a  secret  messenger,  disguised,  would 
come  in  from  Rhotas  ways,  and  her  eyes  would  glisten  at  the 
thought  that,  mayhap,  it  might  not  be  long  now  ere  Mohabat's 
power  was  broken. 

They  started  back  to  Lahore  from  Kabul  early  in  the  season, 
and  chose  the  lower  route  for  their  return.  Among  the  low  hills 
the  coolth  lingered,  and  there  was  better  sport  for  the  Emperor, 
who  renewed  all  his  youthful  keenness  in  the  due  instruction  of 
his  grandsons. 

"  Dara  Shukoh  is  the  bolder,"  he  would  say,  "  but  little 
Aurungzebe  hath  the  better  eye.  He  can  follow  a  spoor  like  a 
trained  huntsman." 

"  Or  a  jackal !"  quoth  Racquiya  Begum,  who  never  missed  an 
opportunity  of  giving  her  opinion  of  the  boy.  The  journey 
homewards  was  sadly  trying  the  old  lady,  and  Nurjahan  felt  that 
ere  long  one  of  her  earliest  friends  would  be  no  more  seen.  Then 
of  all  the  kindly  folk  she  had  known,  only  the  Emperor  would  be 
left.  And  Asof,  her  brother  !  Yes,  if  she  succeeded  in  her  em- 
prise, Asof  must  come  back.  He  was  no  worse  than  the  others, 
and  the  Emperor  liked  him.  Had  the  latter  not  said  over  and 
over  again  that  he  regretted  separation  from  him,  since,  he  was 
distinguished  above  all  other  servants  for  ability,  good  dis- 
position and  tact,  very  unequalled  in  all  kinds  of  propriety,  so 
that  his  society  was  pleasurable  to  a  degree  ? 

So  Asof  must  return  as  titular  Vizier,  at  any  rate. 

This  and  many  another  detail  was  settled  as  the  Imperial 
camp  wound  its  long  length  through  the  sharp  defiles  of  the  Salt 
Range.  A  strange  country  this,  with  its  rugged,  treeless  peaks, 
its  narrow  valleys  so  bare  in  the  rainless  season,  so  lush  with 
grazing  grass  when  the  torrent  beds  run  swift  with  brackish 
water.  But  there  was  plenty  of  game,  and  in  the  still  noons 
the  sunlight  baked  into  the  rocks  and  made  them  show  opalescent 
against  the  sky. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  339 

It  was  just  as  they  were  debouching  into  the  more  level  ground 
out  of  which  the  Rhotas  foot  rises,  as  rises  the  Rock  of  Gibraltar, 
that  a  halt  was  called  to  enable  the  Emperor  to  have  a  review 
of  his  troops,  ere  they  began  the  march  through  the  open  plain 
that  showed  like  a  blue  mist  beyond  the  curving  stream  of  the 
Jhelum  river. 

That  night  the  news  ran  round  the  camp  that  the  Begum's 
new-raised  cavalry  were  to  take  part  in  the  morrow's  demon- 
stration. 

How  many  were  there  ?     Where  had  they  been  raised  ? 

Some  few  in  Kabul;  that  folk  knew.  Some  few  more,  en  route  ; 
but  that  was  not  enough  to  warrant  Mohabat  Khan's  restlessness. 

What  was  up  ? 

None  knew;  though  one  coming  from  the  plain  to  the  left  of 
Rhotas  had  tales  to  tell  of  a  great  company  of  wild-looking 
horsemen  awaiting  orders. 

But  Fedai  Khan,  when  he  rode  over  to  pay  his  humble  duty 
to  the  Emperor,  said  not  one  word  about  them.  He  was  fairly 
well  received,  for  he  brought  news  of  a  great  herd  of  antelope 
that  had  been  driven  into  a  neighbouring  defile  for  Jahangir's 
special  delectation. 

"  Lo  !  I  will  go  after  them  to-morrow,  when  the  review  is  over," 
said  the  Emperor  in  high  delight. 

Whereupon  Fedai  Khan  remarked  that  there  would  be  small 
chance  of  sport  if  the  Lord  of  Light  had  to  take  his  usual  Rajput 
guard,  to  which  Jahangir  had  replied  in  an  ill  humour  that, 
Mohabat  or  no  Mohabat,  he  would  do  as  he  liked. 

And  that  evening  he  sent  word  to  his  Prime  Minister  that  since 
the  Begum  was  going  to  exhibit  her  new-raised  cavalry  it  would 
be  well  if  he,  Mohabat,  kept  his  Rajputs  out  of  the  way,  to  avoid 
the  possibility  of  a  quarrel. 

Mohabat,  doubtless,  being  of  a  cunning  that  would  instruct 
the  devil,  smelt  a  rat;  but  he  was  powerless  to  avert  the  crisis, 
so,  being  a  wise  man,  he  kept  his  breath  to  cool  his  own  porridge, 
and  withdrew  his  guards. 

Needlessly,  it  appeared  at  first;  for  when  the  dawn  broke  and 
the  contingents  stood  ready  for  review,  only  Nurjahan's  poor 
muster  showed  amongst  the  others. 


340  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

"  Where  be  thy  new  troops,  dearest  ?"  asked  the  Emperor 
half  playfully  of  his  consort,  who  ever  sat  with  him  in  the  howdah 
of  the  royal  elephant.  It  was  Gajraj,  recovered  of  his  wounds. 

"  They  are  here,  my  lord  !"  replied  Nurjahan  meekly.  "  Give 
the  word  for  advance,  Gajraj  !"  she  added,  and  the  wise  beast, 
lifting  its  trunk — there  were  two  long  scars  on  it — bellowed 
forth  his  mightiest  trumpet. 

So  from  every  ravine,  every  sparse  bit  of  cover  on  every  road 
and  path,  came  an  answering  fanfare  of  wild  horn  and  drums  and 
conches,  as  over  two  thousand  wild  horsemen  swept  into  view, 
their  lean  little  ponies,  unused  to  such  slow  work,  prancing  and 
neighing  and  fidgeting,  until,  with  a  sudden  hoarse  word  of  com- 
mand, the  leader  of  the  first  company  relieved  them  from  discipline, 
and  like  a  tornado — one  furious  gust  of  lances  and  legs  and  tails, 
dominated  by  stern  set  faces,  from  which  the  long  black  curls 
swept  backwards  like  a  mane — they  forged  up  to  the  royal 
elephant,  then  paused,  irregular,  yet  like  a  rock. 

It  was  enough. 

Ere  the  last  company  had  formed  up,  Mohabat  was  to  horse 
and  away. 

That  evening  there  were  two  camps  once  more  on  the  banks 
of  the  Jhelum  river;  but  this  time  the  northern  had  the  whip 
hand  of  the  southern,  and  where  Jahangir  had  lost  his  liberty 
he  found  his  freedom. 

And  Nurjahan  was  once  more  mistress  of  all  India;  but  ere  she 
slept,  with  the  almost  terrible  foresight  she  always  possessed, 
she  sent  off  two  messengers — one  to  Mohabat,  treating  him  as  a 
mere  Generalissimo,  giving  him  orders  to  at  once  deliver  up 
Asof  Khan  on  pain  of  having  sufficient  force  sent  against  him 
to  compel  compliance;  after  which  he  was  to  proceed  against 
Shahjahan  in  Scende;  the  other  to  Shahjahan  himself,  bidding  him 
beware  of  Mohabat,  and  advising  his  retreat  to  the  Deccan, 
there  to  defend  himself  with  better  chance  of  success. 

After  which  it  is  to  be  hoped  she  slept.  She  had  at  any  rate 
by  sheer  force  of  purpose  gained  her  object,  and  all  the  men  in 
India  had  passed  under  a  woman's  rule. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

"  Swift  Death  found  Love  a-cold,  and  gave  her  place 
Within  his  Shroud,  then  hurried  on  apace 
To  Harvest.     '  Oh,  dread  Death  !'  his  victims  cried. 
'  Nay,  I  am  Love,'  he  said,  and  showed  her  face." 

ONCE  more  it  was  the  Pleasant  Land,  and  yet,  as  Nurjahan  sat 
beside  the  Emperor's  couch  in  the  Garden  of  the  Breezes  down  by 
the  Dhal  lake  she  felt  that  its  pleasure  was,  so  far  as  she  was 
concerned,  a  thing  of  the  past;  for  every  day,  every  hour,  every 
minute  was  consumed  by  anxiety.  A  single  look  at  Jahangir 
was  sufficient  to  tell  that  he  was  ill  indeed.  He  had  never  really 
recovered  the  shock  of  his  kidnapping  or  the  organized  debauch 
which  followed  on  it. 

And  yet  his  face,  thin  and  hollow-cheeked,  looked  less  heavy 
than  in  the  years  gone  by,  and  his  kindly  smile  when  he  met  her 
eyes  seemed  more  radiant  than  ever. 

Still,  the  last  year  had  brought  him  many  sorrows.  As  Nur- 
jahan had  anticipated,  old  Khanzada  Racquiya  Begum  had  gone 
to  her  rest,  and  by  her  own  desire  had  been  carried  back  to 
Kabul,  there  to  lie  beside  her  father's  people.  But  who  would 
have  predicted  the  death  of  Prince  Parviz,  strong,  hale,  hearty  ? 
Yet  he  had  died  of  a  seizure  brought  on  by  excessive  drinking. 
So  would  Jahangir  have  died,  doubtless,  years  before,  but  for 
a  woman's  care.  Then  Shahjahan,  joined  by  the  time-serving 
Mohabat,  had  showed  renewed  signs  of  independence.  Finally, 
Shahriyar,  the  Emperor's  sole  remaining  son,  had  not  been 
satisfactory.  He  spent  his  time  dissolutely  amongst  low  company, 
and  was  beginning  to  suffer  from  the  consequences ;  to  what  extent 
Nurjahan  kept  from  the  Emperor,  as  she  strove  to  keep  all 
disagreeables. 

Thus,  as  she  sat  in  that  loveliest  of  all  gardens,  on  the  low 
marble  dais  that  juts  into  the  pellucid  water,  she  smiled  back  at 
the  Emperor's  smiles,  and  applauded  his  versifications  to  the 


342  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

echo;  for  now  that  he  was  for  the  most  part  confined  to  his  couch, 
his  favourite  amusement  was  stringing  words  together;  and  he 
was  becoming  curiously  sensitive  to  praise  or  blame,  as  he  was  to 
his  own  bodily  pain. 

"  Lo  !"  he  said  with  his  halting  breath,  which  made  his  lines 
run  rough,  "  these  are  the  best  I  ever  wrote,  methinks."  And 
he  began: 

"  The  zephyr  sheds  a  perfume  from  her  skirts, 
For  she  hath  kissed  the  roses,  and  the  pool 
Roughens  in  smiling  ripples  as  with  curt 
1  Good-morrow,  friend  !'  she  hastens  past  to  cool 
The  forehead  of  the  lover  of  good  wine 
And  sharpen  his  desire.     Oh,  Rose  divine, 
When  I,  sad  singer,  be  beneath  the  earth, 
Yon  musky  bud  will  bring  thee  a  new  birth. 
So,  Hafiz,  be  of  joyous  heart ;  sure,  God 
Sends  Spring,  although  thou  liest  beneath  the  sod." 

The  words,  the  laboured  breathing,  the  thin  fluttering  hands 
that  strove  to  give  appropriate  action,  sent  sudden  tears  to  the 
woman's  eyes.  Yea,  it  was  true — ere  long  it  must  be  true. 
And  then ? 

She  would  not,  she  could  not  think.  But  one  thing  seemed 
certain.  The  child  on  whose  future  she  had  built  her  own  would 
never  fill  the  place  to  gain  which  her  grandmother  was  prepared 
to  fight  to  the  end. 

Tall  for  her  age,  with  every  promise  of  surpassing  beauty, 
little  Gifted  Lady,  now  in  her  fifth  year,  showed  no  promise  of 
intellect  beyond  that  of  the  ordinary  girl-child  of  her  years; 
perhaps  less. 

All  this  flashed  through  Nurjahan's  brain,  but  she  set  it  aside 
and  turned  a  smiling  face  to  the  poet. 

"  Yea,"  she  said,  "  that  is  better  than  most — yet  why  speak  of 
sods — save  as  a  rhyme  to  gods  !"  she  added  with  a  laugh.  "  Thou 
art  better,  dearest,  far  better  than  thou  wast;  and  we  will  return 
sooner  this  year,  since  the  cold  here  may  be  detrimental  to  thy 
cough." 

So,  clapping  her  hands,  she  ordered  the  servants  to  bring  him 
instantly  the  violet  sherbet  and  the  candied  rose-leaves  which  he 
loved  so  well;  for  he  had  become  very  dainty  in  his  food,  and 
scrupulous  as  any  high-caste  Hindu  as  to  things  clean  and  un- 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  343 

clean.  Briefly,  he  had  outlived  the  coarseness  of  life,  and  in- 
validism  had  robbed  him  of  his  virility.  None  the  less  was  he 
the  more  lovable  to  a  woman  of  Nurjahan's  type,  and  she  came 
nearer  to  passion  during  those  months  in  which  slowly,  almost 
idly,  they  wandered  luxuriously  about  the  low  levels  of  Kashmir 
than  she  had  ever  done  before.  They  did  not  attempt  the  hills 
as  formerly,  but  Islamabad  saw  them  when  the  pilgrims  to 
Amarnath  were  passing  through  that  quaint  congeries  of  wooden 
temples  and  tanks,  crowding  fishes  and  crowding  men,  women, 
and  children. 

It  was  the  sight  of  the  mounds  of  hungry  fish-mouths  that 
rose  out  of  the  sacred  water  in  pursuit  of  the  veriest  crumb  that 
started  the  idea  of  a  fishing  excursion  round  the  great  sources  of 
the  river;  the  three  springs  which  at  the  eastern  end  of  the 
valley  gush  out  from  the  living  rock. 

Asof  Khan,  who  had  done  his  work  well — and  more  than  his 
work,  since  secret  messengers  had  been  going  backwards  and 
forwards  between  his  office  and  the  Deccan — would  have  had 
Jahangir  save  himself  the  trouble  of  marching,  and  set  to  work  to 
catch  some  of  the  mounds  of  sacred  fish  where  they  were;  for  he 
was  a  bigoted  Mahomedan,  to  whom  Hindu  superstition  was  rank 
abomination.  But  Jahangir  with  much  pomp  admonished  his 
Vizier  on  the  duties  of  those  who  governed  mixed  races,  mixed 
religions,  and  quoted  at  him  a  quatrain  of  which  he  was  very 

proud: 

"  For  the  care  of  all  subjects  I  keep 
Mine  eyes  unacquainted  with  sleep  ; 
For  the  care  of  the  bodies  of  these 
My  own  trouble  and  pain  are  as  ease." 

It  was  at  Islamabad  that  the  most  crushing  blow  to  her  ambitions 
fell  upon  Nurjahan.  Shahriyar,  without  doubt,  had  been  for 
some  time  past  her  nominee  for  the  throne  in  the  future.  Even 
the  conviction  that  his  little  daughter  would  never,  and  could 
never,  rise  to  the  level  of  the  dream-child  she  had  been  when  she 
was  born,  had  not  altered  the  Empress's  plan  of  continuing  to 
rule  through  Shahriyar  as  figurehead.  Even  the  connection 

of  his  unworthiness  had  not  altered  it.     Up  to  a  certain  point 

But  now  something  happened  which  turned  her  tolerance  to 
loathing.     Shahriyar,  as  the  result  of  his  evil  life,  was  stricken 


344  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

with  a  sort  of  leprosy,  and  was  advised  by  his  physicians  to 
return  without  delay  to  Lahore,  there  to  be  efficiently  treated. 

"  Miserable  !"  she  said,  facing  the  young  man  with  scorn  in 
voice  and  face,  heart  and  mind.  "  Was  not  a  throne  sufficient 
bribe  to  make  thee  decent  ?  Was  not  kingship  enough  to  keep 
thee  from  the  gutters  ?  Now  in  the  time  when  God's  Providence 
may  call  thee  to  play  thy  part,  thou  wilt  be  absent  !  But  go, 
and  go  quickly  !  Yet  not  one  word  of  this  to  the  Emperor. 
His  dying  ears  shall  not  listen  to  thy  shame,  his  dying  days 
shall  not  be  clouded  by  yet  another  unworthy  son  !" 

She  spoke  bravely,  but  after  he  had  slunk  away,  eager  to  seek 
relief  as  soon  as  possible,  she  sought  solitude,  flung  herself  on  her 
couch,  and  cried  as  she  had  never  cried  before. 

The  meanness  of  it,  the  petty,  miserable  meanness  of  the  man 
— of  so  many  men — seared  her  soul  as  with  a  red-hot  iron.  Was 
life,  which  held  such  horrors,  worth  the  trouble  she  gave  to  it  ? 
And  in  one  illuminating  flash  she  saw  herself  as  she  had  been 
from  the  beginning — always  at  work,  never  giving  mind  or  body 
an  instant's  rest;  ever,  rightly  or  wrongly,  striving  to  impress 
something  that  she  saw,  and  others  did  not  seem  to  see,  upon  her 
world. 

No,  it  was  not  worth  it.  A  great  distaste  to  effort  forced 
itself  upon  her. 

Then  came  remembrance  that  in  speaking  to  Shahriyar  she 
had  for  the  first  time  confessed,  even  to  herself,  that  the  Emperor 
was  dying.  She  sat  up  in  her  favourite  attitude,  and  for  the 
first  time  also  gripped  what  that  confession  meant;  and  a  great 
pity,  a  great  protecting  love,  welled  up  in  her  heart  for  the  stricken 
man. 

These  last  few  days  or  weeks  should  give  him  all  he  had  ever 
asked  of  her.  So  she  rose,  sent  for  her  dressers,  robed  herself 
with  unaccustomed  care,  and  went  over  to  where  the  Emperor 
was  amusing  himself  mightily  with  examining  a  manawal  pheasant 
which  had  just  been  brought  to  him  from  the  snows. 

"  Look,  dearest,"  he  said.  "  Saw  you  ever  such  colours  on 
the  breast.  Lo  !  when  I  was  a  lad  I  mind  me  trying  to  extract 
copper  from  a  peacock's  tail  because  folk  said  it  was  an  antidote 
to  poison  !  But  there  is  copper  here  and  to  spare  !  And  see  you 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  345 

the  real  pheasant's  ear  coverts,  but  the  hinder  parts  as  a  bustard. 
Truly  a  goodly  bird,  and  it  weighs  heavy  for  its  size.  Yet  is  it 
not  good  eating,  so  they  say,  seeing  that  for  the  most  part  it 
lives  on  the  juniper-berries.  But  the  plumage  is  extraordinarily 
beautiful.  God  knows  why  'twas  made  so,  seeing  that  it  liveth 
alone  in  the  snows." 

"  It  hath  its  mate,"  smiled  Nurjahan,  and  Jahangir  laughed. 

"  Yea,  but  she  is  a  sober  bird,  they  say.  "Tis  the  other  way 
with  us  menfolk,"  he  said;  "  and  of  a  surety,  dearest,  thou  dost 
prove  it  in  that  dress  !  Never  didst  thou  look  more  beautiful." 
And  his  eyes  had  all  the  ardour  of  a  young  lover  in  them.  Even 
the  little  Gifted  Lady,  a  doll  in  each  arm,  came  to  stare  admiringly 
at  her  beautiful  grandmother  with  big,  solemn,  childish  eyes. 

"  When  the  wedding- trays  come  I  shall  have  many  such 
dresses,"  she  said  confidently,  and  Jahangir,  delighted,  caught 
her  up  and  kissed  her. 

"  So  thou  shalt,  apple  of  mine  eye,"  he  protested.  "  Yea, 
yea, '  the  peacock's  tail  will  hide  its  head,'  for,  see  you,  thou  wilt 
never  be  her  equal — never — never  !" 

Nurjahan  gave  a  little  shiver;  that  was  true,  deadly  true. 

But  after  that  began  the  leisurely  marching  of  a  mile  or  two 
a  day — for  Jahangir  felt  even  the  rhythmed  motion  of  a  palanquin 
almost  too  much  for  him — from  one  beautiful  camping-ground 
to  another  still  more  beautiful;  and  ever  and  always  it  was  to 
the  woman  a  march  of  death,  since  she  knew  that  never  again 
would  they  pass  that  way  hand  in  hand. 

So  their  steps  lingered.  Those  who  have  imagination  can 
march  with  them,  even  in  these  later  days,  from  Machibawan  to 
Archibul,  from  Archibul  to  Vernag.  After  which,  seriously, 
they  set  their  faces  to  leave  the  Pleasant  Land.  Day  by  day, 
bit  by  bit,  mounting  higher  and  higher  up. the  winding  path  till 
they  paused  to  take  breath  below  the  pass  proper. 

Oh,  strange,  sad  marching  !  One  can  still  see  the  little  caval- 
cade toiling  up  and  up.  The  Emperor  of  all  the  Indies,  fighting 
full  oft  for  sheer  breath,  at  other  times  beguiled,  comforted, 
sustained,  by  the  woman  who  was  never  far  from  his  side.  Love 
and  Death  hand  in  hand  ! 

Their  shadows  fall  still  on  the  wealth  of  flowers  that,  at  all 
seasons,  blossom  on  the  uplands. 


346  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

But  the  pass  and  the  march  below  and  beyond  must  be  crossed 
in  hot  haste,  for  these  high  altitudes  are  cold,  and  the  travellers 
are  fleeing  to  the  plains  in  a  last  desperate  hope  that  a  warmer 
climate  may  bring  relief. 

It  was  almost  starlight  when  they  started  on  the  long  pass 
march.  No  time,  now,  to  rest  and  say  farewell  to  the  rich  levels 
below  them.  It  was  a  race  for  life  through  the  sharp  cliffs  and 
peaks  where  the  snow  already  lay  thick,  and  along  the  wild 
stretches  of  bents  that  seemed  interminable.  Nurjahan,  with  a 
wisdom  beyond  her  generation,  had  given  Jahangir  an  extra 
dose  of  opium,  and  he  slept,  happed  up  in  furs. 

And  she  ? 

Most  wives,  most  mothers,  can  tell  what  her  feelings  must  have 
been  as,  sometimes  walking,  sometimes  riding,  she  kept  up  with 
her  charge,  but  as  the  rest  of  the  world  can  never  even  grip  at 
the  truth,  words  are  useless. 

So,  hurrying  along,  with  relays  of  fresh  bearers  every  mile  or 
so,  they  reached  their  destination  in  safety.  It  was,  perhaps,  the 
most  beautiful  spot  in  all  the  Pirpanjal  route.  A  valley  nestling 
at  the  foot  of  the  steep  descent;  a  valley  of  green  swards  and 
mighty  chestnut-trees  that  crept  also  amongst  the  sober  pines 
up  the  surrounding  hills.  And  the  chestnuts  were  changing  to 
scarlet  and  gold,  and  the  great  Himalaya  lilies  reared  their  heads 
from  the  green  and  gold  ferns.  Here,  sheltered  from  all  the  winds 
that  blow,  in  a  warm  moist  atmosphere,  the  Emperor's  asthma 
took  a  sudden  turn  for  the  better.  The  place  had  always  had 
charms  for  him,  since  nowhere  was  better  sport  to  be  had,  and  he 
once  more  decided  to  stop  for  a  few  days  and  enjoy  such  hunting 
as  he  could  compass. 

i  This  was  not  much,  as  stalking  was  beyond  him;  but  Nurjahan, 
as  ever,  was  to  the  fore  in  procuring  him  amusement.  So  at  the 
foot  of  a  mountain,  where  two  small  valleys  debouched,  a  butt 
was  hastily  built  wherein  Jahangir  could  sit  and  shoot  at  the 
driven  deer  and  wild  goats  as  they  came  past. 

The  Emperor,  in  the  seventh  heaven  at  being  once  more  able 
to  use  his  matchlock,  was  merry  as  a  cricket,  and  all  went  well. 
But  as  the  light  was  failing  one  of  the  beaters  on  the  steep  cliff 
above  the  butt  let  the  animal  he  was  striving  to  drive  downwards 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  347 

escape  him  upwards,  and  drew  down  on  himself  angry  shours 
from  below.  He  turned  rapidly  to  retrieve  his  mistake,  his 
foot  slipped,  and  with  one  yell  of  despair  he  fell,  his  body  bound- 
ing from  rock  to  rock  till  he  lay  a  mangled  corpse  almost  at  the 
Emperor's  feet.  It  was  the  work  of  a  few  seconds.  Almost 
before  the  echo  of  his  yell  had  ceased  reverberating  among  the 
rocks,  he  was  dead. 

The  Emperor,  starting  up,  covered  his  face  with  his  hands, 
and  stood  trembling  in  every  limb. 

"  "Tis  my  fault !"  he  gasped.  "  I  killed  him  !  What  right 
had  I  to  kill  God's  creatures  ?  What  right  ?  What  right  ? 
Lo  !  I  am  punished  !  His  blood  is  on  my  head  !" 

And  the  man  who  but  a  few  years  before  had  recklessly  ordered 
two  innocent  men  to  be  executed  because  all  unwittingly  they 
had  disturbed  his  aim  at  a  nilghai,  would  not,  could  not  be 
comforted.  Even  the  Princess  to  whom  he  had  given  his  un- 
reserved confidence  was  powerless  before  his  self-reproach. 
Why  had  he  ever  broken  the  vow  he  had  made  when  little  Prince 
Bravery  was  ill,  never  again  to  injure  any  of  God's  creatures  ? 
Because  he  was  angered  with  his  son — a  son  who  after  all  had 
repented  him  of  the  evil. 

Ah !  rightly  was  he  punished  !  All  hastily  he  sent  for  the  young 
man's  mother;  and  her  story  of  how  the  dead  son  had  been  her 
only  means  of  support  but  increased  the  Emperor's  agitation. 
He  could  give  money — ay,  he  could  give  money  and  to  spare; 
but  who  could  give  back  the  love,  the  affection  ?  And  it  was  his 
fault  !  his  fault  !  his  fault ! 

Then  the  physical  distaste  at  the  sight  of  such  a  tragedy  rose 
strong. 

"  I  see  it  still— wherever  I  look  I  see  it  still,"  he  cried.  "  Let 
us  go  on;  let  us  no  longer  stop  in  this  hateful  place  where  I  have 
called  Death  to  me  !" 

And  she,  looking  at  his  pallid  breathlessness,  the  pained 
frown  upon  his  forehead,  acquiesced.  Change  of  scene  would 
doubtless  weaken  the  impression.  It  must  be  tried,  at  any  rate, 
and  that  without  delay. 

It  was  a  cloudless  day  when  at  three  in  the  afternoon  they 
started  for  Rajaur,  two  marches  away,  for  the  intervening  one 


348  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

was  but  a  comfortless  place.  At  Rajaur,  however,  the  Emperor 
could  rest  awhile. 

Ay,  he  might  rest  indeed  ! 

Nurjahan's  eyes  did  not  fill  with  tears,  her  lip  did  not  tremble 
at  the  thought.  All  of  her,  body  and  soul,  was  at  the  man's 
service;  she  had  no  time  to  think  of  grief.  So  they  went  swiftly 
on — to  rest. 

It  was  nigh  sunset  when  they  paused  for  a  moment.  The 
Emperor  had  asked  for  some  wine,  and  Nurjahan  was  ready  as 
ever  with  the  ruby  cup. 

He  put  it  to  his  lips,  then  held  it  out  to  her.  "  I  cannot 
drink,"  he  whispered.  "  Drink  thou — for  me  !" 

They  had  set  down  the  palanquin  on  a  tiny  patch  of  greensward 
beside  a  trickling  stream  almost  hidden  by  the  dense  growth 
of  maidenhair  fern.  Around,  in  changing  colour,  were  the  autumn 
woods,  and  high  up  in  the  sky — so  high  that  it  seemed  inconceiv- 
able, incredible,  it  should  belong  to  earth  and  not  to  heaven — 
showed  one  snow-clad  peak. 

Nurjahan  knelt  down  beside  the  dying  man  and  kissed  him  on 
the  lips. 

"  I  drink  for  both,"  she  whispered  back;  so,  draining  the  cup, 
she  hid  it  in  her  bosom.  Its  work  was  done.  Then,  rising,  she 
bid  the  bearers  make  haste  with  their  burden. 

So  they  started  once  more,  and  the  fallen  leaves  about  their 
feet  rustled  a  soft  refrain  to  the  musical  cadence  of  their  half- 
sobbing  chorus  of  muffled  voices. 

It  was  dark  ere  they  reached  Rajaur,  and  the  Emperor  was 
unconscious.  They  laid  him  in  the  arched  verandah  of  the  fort 
which1"! overhung  the  rushing  river,  and  it  sang  a  whispered 
lullaby  to  him,  hiding  the  faint  sobbing  of  his  breath. 

"  Let  him  be,"  said  Nurjahan  sternly.  "  Let  him  have  peace 
at  the]i  last !" 

Outside  and  within  men  were  passing  to  and  fro,  talking; 
planning  and  preparing;  but  there,  in  the  moonlight,  was  silence. 

Would  he  speak  again  ?     Would  he  recognize  her  at  the  last  ? 

Mayhap.     She  must  be  patient  and  wait. 

So  when  the  sun  had  risen  to  show  the  exquisite  beauty  of  the 
view — the  rushing  river,  the  clustered  town,  the  terraced  fields 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  349 

rising  tier  upon  tier,  and  behind  them  the  everlasting  snows — 
he  stirred.  And  the  woman  bent  anxiously  over  him.  Then 
his  eyes  opened;  but  he  looked  away  from  her,  as  a  smile  showed 
faintly  on  his  face. 

"  Meru  !"  he  whispered,  and  held  both  hands  out  to  the  empty 
air. 

And  as  Nurjahan  rose  from  her  ended  vigil  she  felt  that  he  had 
indeed  passed  her  by.  All  her  long  years  of  life  and  effort  were 
as  naught.  It  was  "  Meru/'  the  child  he  had  played  with;  the 
girl  he  had  loved  in  the  garden  to  whom  he  gave  his  last,  his 
best. 

As  she  stepped  out  of  the  verandah  to  make  room  for  those 
who  were  to  perform  the  last  offices  to  the  dead,  Asof  Khan 
stopped  her. 

"  It  will  be  better,"  he  said  deferentially,  yet  still  authorita- 
tively, "  if  Majesty  will  come  to  the  apartment  prepared  for  her.'* 

She  gave  him  one  look,  a  look  that  seemed  to  shrivel  him,  body 
and  soul. 

"Traitor!"  she  said;  and  followed  where  he  led  without 
another  word. 


CHAPTER  XX 

"  Count  in  thy  Life  Love's  kisses;  count  the  prize 
Of  Friendship  and  of  Trust  that  never  dies ; 
But  count  no  wrong,  no  Enemy,  no  Lie. 
They  shall  be  counted  at  the  Great  Assize." 

"  THE  woman  keeps  quiet  as  the  grave,"  quoth  a  high  functionary 
doubtfully.  "  God  send  she  be  not  plotting  against  us.  Lo  ! 
it  were  well,  methinks,  to  put  her  out  of  harm's  way." 

Asof  Khan  squirmed.  "  Nay,  Khan-;Y,"  he  replied  hastily. 
"  Men — ay,  and  women  too — must  be  judged  by  actions;  and  she 
hath  scarce  opened  her  mouth  since  Jahangir — may  the  mercy 
of  God  receive  him  ! — set  out  on  the  path  of  annihilation;  save, 
indeed,  to  send  me  word  that  his  wish  and  hers  was  that  the  corpse 
should  find  a  resting-place  in  the  garden — thou  mindest  it — on 
this  side  the  Ravi.  Dost  remember  ?  The  Emperor  desired  it, 
bought  it  of  the  Herati  pigeon-fancier  Mumin,  and  gave  it  to — 
to — my  sister.  'Tis  a  rare  garden,  and  hath  lofty  plane-trees 
and  handsome  cypresses  !  'Twill  do  well  for  a  tomb — therefore 
I  gave  consent." 

The  high  official  sniffed;  he  liked  not  Asof's  assumption  of 
command.  "  Authority  lies  with  Majesty,"  he  said,  "  and 
Majesty  lies  with  the  eldest  son  of  the  eldest  son — Dawar  Baksh." 

He  scanned  his  hearer's  face  narrowly;  but  everyone  in  the 
wide  camp  that  still  halted  at  Rajaur  looked  at  his  neighbour 
askance.  What  was  to  be  the  upshot  of  Jahangir's  death  ? 
Would  the  two  brothers  fight  for  the  throne — Shahriyar  gaining 
slight  advantage  by  being  closer  to  the  spot  than  Shahjahan — or 
would  the  Legitimist  party  win  it  for  the  heir-at-law  ?  All  day 
and  all  night  plots  and  counterplots  were  being  hatched,  and  men 
were  counting  how  long  it  would  take  the  news  to  reach  the 
Deccan,  how  long  it  would  take  Shahjahan  to  return  and  claim 
the  Empire. 

Asof  Khan  and  his  party  admitted  mournfully  that  four 

35° 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  351 

months  would  scarce  be  sufficient;  though  all  the  while  they  knew 
that  almost  ere  the  late  Emperor  had  breathed  his  last  the 
swiftest  messenger  in  India — an  almost  incredibly  swift  messenger 
— had  started  southwards  with  the  news,  and  that  his  journey 
would  be  a  record  one,  even  for  him. 

Meanwhile,  to  keep  finalities  in  abeyance,  it  was  at  last  decided 
by  all  parties  that  Dawar  Baksh,  dead  Khushrau's  son,  should 
be  proclaimed  heir  to  Empire.  It  satisfied  all  factions — the 
Legitimists  because  it  was  the  proper  conventional  course; 
Shahriyar's  faction  and  the  Shahjahan  faction  because  it  gave 
time  for  their  nominees  to  put  in  an  appearance. 

And  it  hurt  no  one,  save  poor  Dawar  Baksh  himself,  who,  after 
vainly  seeking  to  be  excused  the  dangerous  honour,  gave  in 
to  it. 

Hitherto  he  had  been  more  or  less  under  surveillance,  despite 
the  fact  that  he  was  really  a  quite  negligible,  if  well-meaning, 
nonentity. 

This  point  settled,  the  camp  moved  Lahore-wards,  carrying 
with  it  Nurjahan,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  a  prisoner. 

But  a  silent  one,  greatly  to  the  astonishment  of  her  surround- 
ings, more  especially  of  her  brother,  who,  despite  his  disloyalty 
to  her  ambitions,  had  a  great  affection  and  admiration  for  his 
sister. 

And  her  resolute  refusal  to  see  him  made  him  feel  guilty; 
hence  he  had  fallen  in  at  once  with  her  views  as  to  the  burial-place 
of  the  late  Emperor  which  she  sent  him  in  writing.  The  prepara- 
tions necessary  for  the  journey  did  not  take  long,  the  prayers, 
the  wailing,  were  soon  over,  but  until  she  had  watched  the  little 
cavalcade  which  escorted  the  embalmed  body  disappear  round  the 
last  visible  curve  of  the  downward  road,  Nurjahan  gave  herself 
no  time  to  think. 

Yet  all  the  while  realities  were  coming  home  to  her.  Most  of 
all  the  certainty  that  it  was  not  she,  as  she  knew  herself — not  the 
compound  of  Mihr-un-nissa,  Nurmahal,  Nurjahan,  that  ardent, 
yet  in  a  way  cold,  vital,  capable  personality — that  Jahangir 
had  loved;  it  was  Meru,  the  child  he  had  played  with,  the  girl 
he  had  seen  in  the  garden. 

And  her  dulled  eyes  would  follow  the  little  Gifted  Lady  as  she 


352  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

played  with  her  dolls,  realizing  that  she  also  was  capable  of  play- 
ing that  part  in  a  man's  life.  Why,  then,  should  she — poor  child  ! 
— be  asked  to  undertake  a  harder  role  ?  She  should  not  !  She 
should  be  married  when  the  time  came  to  some  worthy  bride- 
groom. Fedai  Khan's  son  was  a  suitable  age. 

She  caught  up  her  vagrant  thoughts  then  to  ask  herself  why 
she  had  undertaken  this  harder  role  ?  She  scarcely  knew; 
but  it  had  been  played,  and  played  well.  Yet  she  would  play 
it  no  more.  Ever  since  that  flood  of  womanly  tears  which  had 
followed  on  Shahriyar's  miserable  meanness,  she  had  known 
that  it  would  come  to  this.  It  ;was  not  as  if  she  had  been  beaten, 
as  if  she  had  been  worsted  in  the  fight.  She  had  gained  her 
point;  she  had  set  herself  a  definite  aim,  and  she  had  accom- 
plished it. 

Now — yes,  now  ! — she  would  revert  to  being  the  Meru  men  had 
loved. 

So,  day  by  day,  she  journeyed  in  silence,  making  no  comment 
on  the  gossip  of  the  eunuchs  and  ladies-in-waiting  who  still 
surrounded  her.  None  the  less  she  was  laying  her  plans,  and  one 
of  them  she  carried  into  execution  a  few  days  ere  they  reached 
Lahore;  for  Dawar  Baksh  had  been  a  favourite  with  Jahangir, 
who  had  ever  liked  all  simple-minded  folk. 

So  one  evening  she  sent  a  formal  request  to  be  allowed  an 
interview  with  the  Emperor  of  all  the  Indies,  to  which  the  young 
man,  who  was  beginning  to  believe  in  his  own  good  fortune, 
and  take  himself  seriously,  responded  by  appearing  before  her 
in  person,  very  full  of  his  power  to  open  prison  doors  if  suitable 
security  were  given  against  any  future  meddling  with  the  affairs 
of  State. 

To  which  Nurjahan,  dressed  in  her  white  widow's  robes,  had 
responded  that  she  had  no  desire  for  freedom,  but  wished  to  speak 
to  her  late  husband's  grandson  privately,  as  she  had  something 
to  say  which  it  would  be  to  his  advantage  to  hear. 

Possibly  to  his  advantage,  but  his  good-natured  face  grew  pale 
with  fear  as,  bidding  him  sit  beside  her  and  listen,  she  told  him 
plainly  that  his  life  was  not  worth  purchase. 

"  See  you/'  she  said  kindly  enough,  "  thou  art  the  stalking 
horse,  for  all  that  thy  cause  has  followers.  But  thou  hast  neither 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  353 

money  nor  brains.  Yet  would  I  fain  save  thee,  since  thy  grand- 
father loved  thee,  and  hath  oft  spoken  of  thy  fitness  for  heirship. 
But  he  decided  against  it — and  rightly " 

"  Yet  by  all  the  laws  of  my  family,  by  Timurid  customs,  I 
am  heir,"  broke  in  Dawar  Baksh  hotly,  "  and " 

But  Nurjahan's  eyes  held  him  silent.  "  Lo  !"  she  replied, 
"  thou  canst  try  it  an  thou  wilt.  But  it  is  death.  So  take 
advice  !  When  the  storm  breaks — disappear  !  Lay  thy  plans 
beforehand  and  be  ready." 

"  Easy  to  say,"  began  the  young  man. 

"  Easier  to  perform,"  put  in  his  step-grandmother  with  a 
charming  smile.  "  See  here,  this  ring."  And  she  took  from  her 
finger  the  little  signet  the  old  Strangler  had  given  her.  "  It 
means  safety.  Seek  out  the  nearest  colony  of  Thugs — there  is 
one  at  Durga's  temple  in  the  Almond  Bazaar  at  Lahore.  Then 
at  the  first  hint  of  danger,  escape  thither;  show  them  the  ring. 
Yet  wilt  thou  require  money,  and  money  that  is  light  to  carry." 
As  she  spoke  she  drew  out  of  her  bosom  the  ruby  cup.  "  This," 
she  said,  and  her  voice  trembled,  "  hath  done  its  part  in  my  life. 
It  hath  not  brought  me  luck — 'twas  the  real  one — that  was 
talisman — but  of  that  no  more.  I  have  no  time  to  tell  thee  all, 
and  if  I  did  thou  wouldst  forget  it.  But  if  thou  wilt  take  that 
cup  to  the  Khan-phatta  shrine,  the  split-eared  jogis  will  give 
thee  gold  galore  for  it !  Ay,  and  keep  silence  too."  She  laughed 
suddenly  a  bitter  laugh,  then  went  on:  "So — first  the  ring  to 
the  stranglers;  then,  with  their  aid,  negotiate  the  cup  at  the 
split-ear  shrine — and  thou  art  safe  !" 

Dawar  Baksh  stared  at  her.  "  But  wherefore  ?  I  under- 
stand not " 

"  Neither  will  thine  enemies,"  she  replied  curtly.  "  This 
much  will  I  tell  thee.  The  split-eared  ones  have  been  searching 
for  that  cup — or  its  marrow — these  fifty  and  six  years;  that  I 
know.  So  do  as  thou  art  bid,  if  the  need  comes — and  come 
it  will." 

And,  as  usual,  she  was  right. 

They  were  close  on  Lahore  now,  and  over  the  level  fields  came 
unwonted  signs  of  coming  war.  From  the  north  had  come 
contingent  after  contingent  to  join  the  mock  majesty  of  Dawar 

23 


354  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Baksh.  A  pitiful  sight  this — royalty  surrounded  by  servants 
who,  as  they  cringed  and  bowed,  held  their  tongues  in  their  cheeks. 
Asof  Khan,  their  leader,  full  of  wild  boasts  of  what  the  Legitimists 
would  do,  even  while  in  thought  the  whole  manhood  of  him  was 
with  the  Hindu  messenger  Binarsi,  who  day  and  night,  night  and 
day,  was  speeding  southward  with  his  verbal  message  for  Shah- 
jahan;  since  not  one  instant  of  time  had  been  wasted  in  the  writ- 
ing of  a  letter.  A  signet-ring  off  the  little  finger  as  a  sign  of  faith, 
the  words,  "  Kingship  awaits  you,"  and,  like  an  arrow  from  a  bow, 
the  man  had  started.  Would  he  do  the  journey  in  the  twenty 
days  he  had  promised  ?  That  was  the  question.  If  it  could 
be  compassed  they  would  have  both  the  other  factions  on  the 
hip.  Shahjahan  could  march  on  Agra,  the  capital,  and  thus 
reduce  the  other  claimants  to  the  position  of  rebels  against  central 
authority. 

Meanwhile,  Shahriyar  was  the  immediate  enemy.  On  hearing 
of  his  father's  death  he  had  seized  the  Treasury  at  Lahore,  and 
with  the  money  therein,  added  by  Nurjahan's  vast  revenues, 
which  with  a  curious  disdain  she  contrived  to  place  secretly  at 
his  disposal,  he  commenced  bribing  right  and  left,  thus  gathering 
together  a  large  force. 

The  two  armies  met  on  the  banks  of  the  Ravi,  not  far  from  the 
spot  where  Nurjahan,  listless,  almost  contemptuous,  sat  beside 
a  new-made  grave,  chanting  prayers  over  it,  and  watching  the 
squirrels  that  raced  from  tree  to  tree,  the  pigeons  that  sidled  on 
the  roof  of  the  summer-house  which  centred  the  garden. 

How  the  dead  man^would  have  rejoiced  in  the  peace  and  quiet 
— with  her  ! 

Well,  he  had  thefpeace,  the  quiet;  and  he  should  have  her  also. 

He  had  given  her  much  in  life.  In  death  she  could 'give  him 
his  heart's  desire. 

So  the  noise  of  battle  drifted  past  almost  unheeding  ears. 

Let  men-folk^squabble  as  they  pleased  over  the  bauble  of  a 
crown  they  knew  notjhow  to  wear.  She,  a  woman,  had  done  her 
part.  Sheihad  ruled|well.  She  had  made  one  man  die  with 
dignity  as  Emperor  of  all  the  Indies.  And  as  she  sat  there,  while 
the  little  Gifted  Lady,  deprived  of  her  two  boy  companions — 
for  Asof  Khan  had  at  once  removed  Shahjahan's  two  little  sons 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  355 

from  their  step-grandmother's  care,  as  if  fearful  evil  should 
befall  them — played  with  her  dolls,  the  mind  of  the  women  w  at 
back  to  the  night  when,  a  girl  of  fourteen,  she  had  met  che  ^reat 
Akbar's  half  sarcastic  remark,  "So  thou  art  ambitious?"  with 
the  proud  words,  "  Of  my  rightful  place." 

Well,  as  she  had  promised  then,  she  had  done  no  harm  to  the 
son  of  the  Emperor  Mahomed  Jahal-ud-din  Akbar !  Her  delicate 
hands  clenched  in  on  themselves ;  she  set  her  lip. 

When  her  attendants  came  running  with  news  of  the  tide  of 
battle,  she  met  them  impatiently. 

"  So  be  it,"  she  said;  "  I  care  not  who  wins.  They  be  all 
men,  and  there  is  small  choice  between  them — murderers,  rake;, 
thieves,  and  liars  !" 

And  she  was  not  far  wrong.  It  is  an  evil  thing  to  try  and  get 
at  the  minds  of  the  majority  of  these  fighters.  Mercenar'es, 
traitors,  pure  unabashed  deceivers.  Asof  Khan,  for  instance, 
one  eye  ever  on  the  Deccan,  the  other  bent  in  humble  Icyalty 
to  the  puppet  whose  very  life  depended  on  when  Binarsi,  the 
messenger,  reached  his  goal. 

Meanwhile,  there  was  enough  to  fill  the  days,  even  after  Shah- 
riyar,  totally  defeated,  had  fled  to  the  fort  at  Lahore,  and,  being 
dragged  from  the  women's  apartments  therein,  had  been  thrown 
into  prison  along  with  Prince  Danial's  two  sons,  who  might  be 
suspected  as  collateral  heirs.  For  the  puppet  Dawar  Baksh 
had  to  be  crowned. 

Nurjahan,  over  in  the  garden  at  S  hahdera,  heard  of  the  grand 
doings,  and  smiled  to  herself. 

"  Tell  me  not  of  the  loyalty  of  the  festivities.  Tell  me  how 
Asof  Khan  bears  himself.  I  would  1  could  see  him;  'twould  be 
a  lesson  in  the  courtier's  art  !" 

But  she  steadfastly  refused  an  interview.  There  was  no 
need,  she  said.  His  mind  was  occupied  with  this  world,  hers 
with  the  other.  If  he  and  his  like  chose  to  think  otherwise,  they 
were  welcome  to  do  as  they  chose.  She  would  be  content  to 
rejoin  her  father  and  mother  and  give  them  the  first  version 'of 
the  tale. 

Whether  this  bitter  sarcasm  availed  or  not,  it  is  impossible 
to  say;  certain  it  is  that  she  was  left  alone  in  her  garden'seclusion 


356  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

where,  calm,  almost  uninterested,  she  listened  to  all  the  gossip 
of  ."he  town  that  lay  so  close  over  the  water.  So  the  days  passed, 
and  c  ceitain  sense  of  safety  grew  even  to  Fedai  Khan's  heart  as 
he  washed  night  after  night  while  his  mistress  slept  the  sleep 
of  a  chilJ.  At  the  first  news  of  her  semi-imprisonment  he  had 
ridden  fast  and  far  with  a  band  of  devoted  servants  to  succour  or 
die  with  her;  but  she  had  forbidden  all  attempts  at  rescue.  So 
he  had  dismissed  his  followers,  though  he  had  remained  himself. 
So  much  he  -efused  to  be  forbidden. 

"  News  ha  '\  come  from  the  Deccan,"  said  Nurjahan  suddenly 
to  him  one  da  . 

"  So  soon  ?'  he  exclaimed.  "  Impossible  !" 
The  Empress  laughed  her  bitter  laugh.  "  Thou  knowest  not 
Asof,"  she  replied.  "  Lo  !  he  is  my  brother,  and  he  is  capable. 
Now  we  shall  see  what  we  shall  see  ."  She  laid  her  hand  suddenly 
on  his.  "  And  if  all  goes  well,  as  it  will,  thou  wilt  be  free  to  go, 
Fedai.  I  have  ever  told  thee  Shahjahan  dare  not  touch  me; 
this  will  prove  it !" 

Once  again  she  was  right.  Whatever  the  letter  sent  in  im- 
mediate answer  to  the  verbal  message  contained,  it  held  no 
penalty  for  Nurjahan  Padshah  Begum.  But  that  very  night, 
as  the  historian  puts  it,  Shahriyar,  the  two  collateral  Princes, 
and  Gurhasp,  Dawar  Baksh's  brother,  "  trod  the  path  of  annihila- 
tion, and  the  world  was  rid  of  their  unnecessary  bodies." 

And  Dawar  Baksh  himself  ?  Strange  to  say,  he  escaped  the 
aiiare.  How,  none  could  guess,  save  a  woman  who  smiled  to 
herself  when  she  heard  the  news  as  she  sat  by  a  new-made  grave. 
And  what  is  more,  he  disappeared  utterly.  Long  years  after, 
a  tale  filtered  through  the  bazaars  from  the  north  that  he  had 
been  seen  in  the  guise  of  a  wandering  fakir  in  Persia;  so  it  is  to  be 
inferred  that  though  he  had  escaped,  he  had  notjgained  untold 
gold  through  the  ruby  cup.  But  by  that  time  the  glorious 
administration  of  Shahjahan  was  firm,  and  none  cared  if  the  other 
were  alive  or  no. 

And  folk  seemed  even  to  have  forgotten  that  by  a  curious 
coincidence  all  the  available  claimants,  all  ,the  possible  aspirants, 
to  the  throne  had  been  disposed  of,  comfortably,  the  very  day 
before  Shahjahan  entered  Agra  in  triumph  and  took  on  his 
shoulders  the  responsibility  of  Empire. 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  357 

Proof  positive,  of  course,  that  he  could  not  have  connived  in 
their  murder  !  Yet  it  is  strange  that  even  to-day,  when  by  the 
cool  light  of  time  truth  becomes  more  manifest,  the  possibility 
of  Shahjahan  being  implicated  in  his  brother  Khushrau's  murder 
is  stoutly  denied,  on  the  ground  that  there  is  no  other  record  of 
such  crime  in  his  life.  What,  then,  of  the  letter  which  brought 
about  wholesale  murder  on  the  very  day  before  his  coronation  ? 
A  strange  coincidence,  my  masters  !  That  is  all. 

But  one  woman  in  a  garden  never  wavered  in  her  certitude. 
And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  after  some  years  had  sped  the  chance 
of  facing  one  whom  she  had  been  too  proud  to  seek  with  the 
truth,  came  to  her. 

Shahjahan,  Emperor  of  all  the  Indies,  being  at  Lahore,  came 
to  visit  his  father's  grave.  It  was  now  enshrined  in  the  magni- 
ficent building  which  remains  to  this  day.  On  it  Nurjahan  had 
spent  all  the  revenues  which  she  had  openly  claimed  for  this 
purpose;  claimed  with  a  calm  certainty  which  admitted  of  no 
refusal. 

And  Shahjahan  on  his  State  visit  of  ceremonial  had  been  forced 
to  acknowledge  that  the  money  had  been  well  employed.  Simple 
in  design,  curiously  flamboyant  in  execution  and  decoration, 
the  tomb  seemed,  and  still  seems,  to  shadow  forth  the  personality 
of  the  man  it  covered.  That  Shahjahan  appreciated  this  is 
certain;  for  he  held  in  trust  that  inheritance  of  the  artistic 
temperament  which  had  come  down  to  him  through  four  genera- 
tions of  Great  Moguls;  an  inheritance  which,  Heaven  knows  why, 
was  lost  to  his  sons  and  their  sons,  but  which  blossomed  out 
again  two  hundred  years  after  in  the  person  of  a  young  Prince, 
whom  the  West  failed  to  recognize  as  worthy  successor. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  Shahjahan,  in  the  full  blaze  of  his  glory, 
surrounded  by  adulation,  almost  unique  in  power,  certainly  so 
in  wealth,  was,  as  he  stood  beside  his  father's  grave  some  five 
years  after  his  accession,  a  broken,  despairing  man. 

For  Arjamand  his  wife  was  dead.  After  all  their  wanderings, 
their  troubles,  their  discomforts  together,  she  had  died  almost 
ere  she  had  realized  her  queenship. 

And  the  woman  in  the  garden  had  set  her  lip  still  more  firmly, 
had  felt  still  more  surely  that  punishment  had  best  be  left  to 
God.  As  All  Kul  had  said,  "  Let  Him  decide  1" 


358  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

So  when  Shahjahan,  as  in  duty  bound,  had  craved  an  audience 
of  the  Keeper  of  the  Garden,  she  had  refused. 

But  Fate  ordained  a  meeting.  Urged  by  Heaven  knows^what 
secret  desire  to  be  alone  for  a  few  moments  beside  his  father's 
grave,  Shahjahan  rode  over  to  it  one  night,  and  leaving  his  two 
retainers  at  the  gate,  went,  a  tall  solitary  figure,  to  the  tomb, 
which  in  the  full  flood  of  moonlight  showed  almost  as^iridescent 
as  by  day;  showed  dim  like  mother-of-pearl  seen  through  waves. 
Tl  e  central  chamber  was  dark  and  scented.  The  crimson,  gold- 
edged  pall  that  covered  the  low  sarcophagus  of  marble  tracery 
showed  a  dense  blot  of  black  shadow,  but  as  he  approached 
something  tall,  slender,  lighter,  rose  from  behind  it,  andji  voice 
that  thrilled  him  through  and  through  said  quietly: 

"  Confess  not  thy  fault,  0  Shahjahan;  he  never  knew  it.  I 
never  told  him.  Let  him  rest  in  peace  !" 


CHAPTER  XXI 

1 '  Two  Lovers  in  the  dark  lay  side  by  side. 
'  Where  art  thou,  dearest  ?'  each  to  each  they  cried  ; 
But  answer  came  there  none  ;  their  bed  the  Grave, 
Two  corpses  they,  bloodless  and  hollow-eyed." 

LONG  years  had  passed  since  Mihr-un-nissa,  widow  of  Ali  Kul 
Istalijii,  and  of  Nur-ed-din  Mohamed  Jahangir,  Emperor  of  all 
the  Indies,  had  taken  up  her  abode  in  the  rare  garden  down  by 
the  river  Ravi  that  had  once  belonged  to  the  pigeon-fancier 
from  Herat. 

The  plane-trees  were  loftier,  the  cypress  handsomer,  and  the 
pigeons  more  numerous.  Roses  and  sweet  jonquils  had  been 
planted  everywhere,  and  centring  all,  rose  a  huge  pile  of  brick 
masonry  set  with  encaustic  tiles,  a  medley  of  colours,  blue  and 
white,  purple  and  red,  all  blending,  like  the  iridescence  on  the 
breasts  of  the  pigeons  which  circled  and  fluttered  round  the 
slender  octagonal  minarets  that  cornered  the  wide  square  of 
arched  cloisters.  Within,  dark,  cool,  spacious,  was  the  domed 
tomb  where  Jahangir  the  Emperor  slept  that  last  long  sleep,  the 
thought  of  which,  he  had  oft  said,  should  be  a  spur  to  every 
true  man's  wakefulness  in  this  life. 

Close  by,  yet  aloof,  stood  another  tomb  infinitely  less  imposing 
and,  as  yet,  untenanted  by  the  dead.  But  the  living  habited  it; 
and  every  morning,  just  as  the  first  sun-rays  were  brightening 
the  spring  world,  as  they  had  brightened  it  that  day  at  Rajaur, 
now  nineteen  years  ago,  when  Nur-ed-din  Mahomed  Jahangir, 
the  Light  of  the  Faith,  had  passed  into  the  Great  Darkness,  an 
old  woman  of  seventy-six,  frail,  yet  still  upright,  would  go  down 
the  narrow  staircase  that  led  from  the  roof  of  the  smaller  tomb, 
.walk  slowly  through  the  cloisters,  and,  entering  the  larger  one, 
lay  a  packed  posy  of  flowers  on  the  sarcophagus  which  centred 
the  building. 

Then  from  the  attendant  canonesses — for  there  were  no  male 

359 


360  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

voices  in  that  choir — would  rise  a  Marsiah,  or  hymn  of  lamenta- 
tion, and  the  long  drawn-out  minor  intervals  would  wail  up  into 
the  dome,  mixing  with  each  other  into  one  sobbing  keen,  until  the 
loud  chanted  "  Ameen  "  would  bring  the  music  back  to  the  major 
key,  and  the  singers,  having  finished  their  morning  task,  would 
close  their  books  softly,  salaam  to  the  dead  and  the  living,  so 
file  out  from  the  incense-laden  air  of  the  tomb  to  the  fresh  bright 
sunshine,  leaving  the  two  alone  together. 

Sometimes  for  a  full  hour  the  figure  at  the  head  of  the  sarco- 
phagus would  sit  there,  still,  silent,  while  the  flocks  of  pigeons 
which  awaited  their  daily  measure  of  corn  on  the  plinth  outside 
grew  impatient,  and  fluttered  and  cooed  for  the  giver  to  finish 
her  prayers  and  attend  to  them.  And  sometimes,  if  she  were 
over-long,  one  or  two  of  the  tamest  would  venture  inside,  and 
after  circling  round  and  round  in  the  shadows  of  the  dome,  the 
rustle  of  their  wings  rousing  a  soft  echo  as  of  innumerable  bees, 
settle  down  suddenly  on  her  lap,  as  if  they  brought  her  something. 

And  they  did;  for  she  would  smile  as  suddenly,  and  the  adorable 
dimple  would  show  as  fascinating  as  it  was,  when,  a  girl  on  the 
threshold  of  life,  she  held  Prince  Salim's  doves  on  her  lap  in  the 
Garden  of  Scattering  Gold^, 

For  even  in  her  old  age  Mihr-un-nissa  kept  her  charm ;  that  is 
a  gift  to  which  the  years  make  no  difference. 

And  she  was  beautiful  besides,  partly  because  her  beauty  had 
become  a  cult  with  her.  It  had  pleased  men  who  were  dead. 
Why  not  keep  it,  therefore,  if  she  could  ? 

Did  she  dye  her  beautiful  hair,  that  showed  no  touch  of  time 
in  it  ?  Possibly  she  did.  There  were  great  hedges  of  the  henna- 
bush  in  the  garden,  and  henna  had  to  be  prepared  to  keep  her 
finger-tips  as  rosy  as  a  bride's.  Anyhow,  her  hair  was  thick  and 
long,  and  glossy  as  of  yore,  and  she  plaited  it  with  jewels  still, 
though  she  wore  no  other  ornament  save  the  string  of  huge  pearls 
the  Emperor  had  given  her;  and  they  were  hidden  by  her  plain 
white  widow's  veil. 

So  she  would  rise  tall,  slender,  still  lissome,  a  youthful  figure 
till  you  saw  her  eyes;  and  they  held  in  them  the  weary  secrets  of 
a  long  life  that  had  kept  its  counsel  to  itself. 

"  Kurru  1    Kurru  kru  I"  she  called  to  the  pigeons,  and  they 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  361 

flocked  round  her  in  whirls  and  whorls  while  she  scattered  their 
grain. 

How  the  Emperor  would  have  rejoiced  to  see  them  !  And 
Ali  Kul  also  !  Thank  God  the  two  men  she  had  known  best 
had  loved  the  dumb  beasts,  even  though  they  hunted  them 
mercilessly.  It  was  a  strange  thing,  that,  yet  true.  The  keener 
the  sportsman,  the  more  comprehension  of  his  prey. 

So  she  passed  on  into  the  garden — it  was  walled  in  those  days 

-walking  slowly,  a  little  breathlessly,  adown  the  marble-edged 
paths  that  divided  it  into  squares,  until  she  came  to  the  big 
mango-trees  where  the  greeny-white  flower-spikes  stood  upright, 
like  candles  on  a  Christmas-tree,  sending  out  a  faint  perfume  of 
honey.  And  there  was  a  stickiness  on  the  marble  path-edge, 
as  if  honey  had  fallen  there.  The  recognition  of  this  made  her 
smile  again.  Small  use  in  calling  the  palm  squirrels  to  their 
daily  feast  of  almonds  when  Dame  Nature  gave  them  so  much 
sweetstuff  ! 

Still,  she  called,  and  some  came,  though  one  big,  fat,  bold-eyed 
morsel  of  a  thing  lay  on  a  branch  almost  within  reach  and  lolled 
out  a  long  red  tongue  at  her  in  a  stupendous  yawn.  It  was  the 
young  ones  that  came;  pretty,  barred,  fluffy  creatures  with  tails 
twice  too  big  for  them  and  a  total  lack  of  discrimination  as  to 
which,  in  her  outstretched  hand,  were  almonds  and  which  filbert- 
shaped  nails  ! 

So  the  dimple  showed  again,  this  time  a  trifle  wearily;  for 
Mihr-un-nissa,  despite  her  looks,  was  beginning  to  feel  her  years. 
But  there  was  much  to  be  done  yet  ere  she  could  labour  up  the 
steep  stairs  once  more  for  her  usual  rest. 

Quite  a  tribe  of  women  were  awaiting  the  daily  distribution 
of  food,  and  there  were  several  new  claimants  whose  cases  had 
to  be  considered.  For  during  those  nineteen  years  Mihr-un- 
nissa  had  kept  her  word,  and  every  cowrie  of  the  money  granted 
her  by  the  State,  that  was  left  after  paying  for  the  building  of 
the  tomb,  went  in  charity.  Not  all  in  food,  though;  and  to-day 
there  was  merriment  among  her  audience  over  a  petition  for  a 
husband.  Suitable  ones,  said  the  somewhat  clamorous  mother 
of  a  young  girl,  who  sat  shamefaced,  hiding  her  face  in  her  veil, 
were  not  to  be  had  without  a  dowry;  no,  not  even  though 


362  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

the  daughter  was   not   ill-looking,  as  the  lady   might  see   for 
herself. 

"  Come  hither,  child/'  said  the  voice,  still  strong,  still  sweet, 
that  had  once  commanded  all  India;  and  the  girl  obeyed. 

Not  a  bad-looking  face,  healthy  and  good-humoured — ay, 
and  modest  too. 

"  Wouldst  like  to  be  married,  child  ?"  came  the  question 
gravely. 

The  girl  hung  her  head.  "  Mother  says  all  girls  are  born  to 
get  married — that  single  women  are  accursed  of  God." 

A  spasm  of  pain  crossed  Mihr-un-nissa's  face;  it  showed  very 
weary  indeed. 

"  I  will  enquire,"  she  said  briefly,  "  and  if  it  be  as  thou  sayest, 
the  dowry  shall  be  forthcoming." 

A  little  murmur  of  approval  rose  amongst  her  audience,  for 
one  of  the  most  virtuous  forms  of  charity  in  India  is  the  bestowing 
of  husbands.  So  one  by  one,  calling  down  blessings  on  their 
benefactress,  the  women  drifted  away  with  their  daily  doles. 

"  Thou  hast  tired  thyself  out,  mother,"  said  a  voice  with  age 
in  it,  as  one  of  the  canonesses  came  out  from  a  side  room  to  sit 
beside  her;  "  but  the  Gifted  Lady  will  be  here  anon  with  her 
children,  and  that  will  cheer  thee,  will  it  not  ?" 

And  yet  once  more  the  smile  showed  the  dimple. 

"  Ay,"  she  said  softly.  "  Both  thy  father,  Gladness,  and  her 
grandfather  loved  the  small  folk;  and  thou  sayest  these  ones  are 
nice  !" 

"  Nice  !"  echoed  the  grandmother  in  hot  indignation.  "  They 
are  peris  from  Paradise — they  are  heart's  darlings  !" 

And  even  as  she  spoke,  there  came  down  the  garden  path  from 
the  gate  a  little  group  which,  certes,  deserved  praise. 

The  Gifted  Lady,  beautiful  exceedingly,  all  smiles  and  laughter, 
holding  by  one  hand  a  small  girl  of  four,  her  very  image,  with 
the  other  supporting  the  somewhat  erratic  steps  of  a  sturdy 
young  urchin  of  two. 

Behind  her  came  three  or  four  maid-servants,  one  of  them 
proudly  carrying  an  infant  in  arms. 

So   there  came  an   excited  childish  treble:   "  Look   Xanni ! 
Look !  how  well  Fedai  walketh  !     Look  !     Look  !     He  walketh  | 
like  dada  !" 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  363 

And  Mihr-un-nissa  laughed,  quite  a  youthful  laugh,  and  was 
ready  with  huggings  and  kissings  for  all  four. 

"  And  so  thou  art  happy,  little  one/'  she  said  at  last  when 
the  children  had  gone  off  to  look  at  the  pigeons,  and  the  three 
generations  of  women  sat  in  the  sunshine  hand  in  hand. 

"  Who  would  not  be  happy  with  those  darlings  ?"  quoth 
Gladness,  forgetful  utterly  that  though  a  good  grandmother, 
she  had  been  but  a  poor  mother.  But  the  Gifted  Lady  went  a 
step  further,  and  pursed  up  her  pretty  mouth  decorously.  "  Lo  ! 
grandmother,  the  possession  of  a  good  husband  is  all  a  woman 
needs  to  make  her  happy;  and  mine — Heaven  save  him  ! — is 
good  indeed  !" 

Mihr-un-nissa's  eyes  twinkled  maliciously.  "  Is  he  still,  then, 
good-looking  ?"  she  asked,  and  a  little  scream  of  protest  answered 
her. 

"  Lo  !  grandmother,  he  is  the  handsomest  of  all !" 

"  So  was  his  father — God  rest  his  soul ! — before  him,"  said 
Mihr-un-nissa  gently.  "  I  mind  him  well.  Fedai  Khan,  the 
beauty  of  the  Court — and  doth  thy  man  still  dress  well,  my 
child  ?" 

"  Never  hath  he  a  fold  awry.  Oh,  grandmother,  I  am  most 
blessed  !" 

"  Never  a  fold  awry,"  echoed  Mihr-un-nissa  dreamily.  "  Neither 
had  his  father — God  grant  him  peace  ! — the  dandy  of  the  Court  !" 
Then  suddenly  she  rose.  "  Lo  !  I  am  more  than  ordinary  tired, 
children;  therefore  I  go  to  rest;  but  I  shall  see  thee  again,  little 
one,"  and  her  warm  clasp  enfolded  the  younger  hand. 

"  Yea,  yea;  but  thou  must  not  descend  the  stairs  again, 
mother,"  fussed  the  canoness.  "  See  you,"  she  added  to  her 
daughter,  "  the  stairs  try  her  much,  for  she  gr  jws  old  !" 

Old  !  The  word  lingered  in  Mihr-un-nissa's  mind  as,  with 
many  a  halt  for  breath,  she  made  her  way  up  the  same  narrow 
stairs.  But  she  would  accept  no  help.  She  did  not  feel  old, 
and  her  memory  was  as  good  as  ever. 

After  her  servants  had  put  all  things  ready  to  her  hand,  and 
left  her  for  her  noontide  rest,  she  sat  for  quite  a  long  time  on  the 
edge  of  her  string  bed — for  she  had  put  away  all  luxuries  nineteen 
years  before,  and  had  since  lived  the  life  of  a  religious  recluse — 


364  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

thinking  over  the  past  years,  from  the  days  of  her  infancy,  wonder- 
ing what  was  the  first  thing  she  really  recollected  in  her  life. 

Was  it  the  giving  of  a  red,  red  rose  to  a  tall  dark  man  ?  Or 
had  she  learnt  that  from  Dilaram's  tongue  ? 

Dear  old  Dilaram  ! — and  quaint,  faithful  Strangler  !  Looking 
down  the  perspective  of  the  years,  she  saw  clearly  how  much  of 
her  success  in  gripping  the  reins  of  government  had  been  due  to 
the  certainty  that  the  news  he  brought  her  was  true.  Ay,  true, 
always  true  ! 

So  her  mind  passed  to  Shahjahan.  Her  prophecy  that  his 
sin  would  find  him  out  was  coming  to  pass.  He  had  lost  his 
dearest  dear;  Arjamand  was  dead.  And  the  son  Aurungzebe — 
strange  how  the  old  Khanzada  had  disliked  him  ! — was  giving 
trouble.  Thank  Heaven  !  they  neither  of  them,  now,  ever  came 
so  far  north  as  Lahore.  She  had  been  right  in  choosing  this 
peaceful  spot  for  the  resting-place  of  the  father  who  had  never 
known  the  full  treachery  of  his  son.  Of  all  the  things  in  her 
long  life  that  gave  her  pleasure  to  recollect,  that  gave  the  most : 
that  she  had  kept  her  counsel,  that  she  had  done  her  best  to  make 
the  man  she  had  never  loved,  happy. 

But  then  she  had  never  loved  anyone;  not  even  Ali  Kul,  the 
husband  of  her  youth.  She  would  go  down  to  the  grave  never 
having  felt  the  self-surrender  of  a  woman's  love.  Never  !  Never  ! 
Neither  could  she.  have  given  a  man's  love — not  as  she  had  known 
their  love.  Yet  there  might  be  something  beyond.  There 
might  be  ! 

So  her  thoughts  took  another  turn. 

Why  had  she  failed  ? 

Because  of  her  beauty.  It  was  that  which  had  killed  Ali 
Kul;  it  was  that  which  had  forced  in  on  men  the  recollection  that 
she  was  woman.  Beauty  and  womanhood — those  were  her 
crimes. 

A  sudden  desire  to  see  the  face  which  had  at  once  been  her 
blessing  and  her  curse  came  over  her.  She  rose  suddenly  to 
reach  a  tiny  hand-mirror  set  in  a  bracelet  which  the  Emperor 
had  given  her  in  days  long  gone  by,  because  he  said  laughingly 
that  so  much  beauty  could  not  be  held  in  the  ordinary  mirror-set 
thumb-ring  all  native  women  wear.  It  was  the  only  mirror 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  365 

she  had  left  herself,  and  she  used  it  always;  and  though  it  gave 
but  a  small  image  it  was  wonderfully  clear. 

In  taking  a  step  forward  her  foot  caught  in  the  carpet,  and 
she  stumbled;  then  stood  breathless,  her  hand  on  her  heart  for 
a  second. 

So  standing,  she  looked  down  into  what  she  held.  What  she 
saw  was  the  head  and  shoulders  of  an  unveiled  woman — for  her 
veil  had  fallen  back  in  her  stumble — a  woman  with  jewel-braided 
hair  seen  against  a  background  of  clear  blue  sky. 

A  beautiful  woman,  without  doubt !  No  wonder  men  had 
loved  her  and  hated  her.  No  wonder  they 

She  gave  a  sudden  lurch  forward,  a  sudden  sigh. 

So  fell,  her  face  buried  against  the  glass  which  had  held  her 
fatal  beauty. 

She  lay  there  in  the  sunshine,  while  the  servants  below  waited 
for  their  lady's  call. 

The  pigeons  fluttered  over  her,  and  once  a  palm  squirrel  with 
barred,  bottle-brush  tail  erect  drew  nearer,  nearer  to  her  with 
little  starts  and  loud  chirruping;  then  fled  from  her  swiftly, 
startled. 

The  shadows  were  lengthening  when  they  found  her,  quite 
dead. 

"  Lo  !"  said  a  weeping  servant-maid  as  they  turned  her  over, 
and  the  beautiful  face  showed  unharmed,  save  for  one  long 
scratch  where  the  dimple  had  been  wont  to  be.  "  See,  she  hath 
hurt  her  poor  nose.  'Twill  spoil  her  beauty  as  a  corpse  !" 


L'ENVOIE 

"  Refuse  not,  pilgrim,  what  men  ask  of  thee — 
Love,  Labour,  Life — give  all,  and  give  it  free. 
When  in  thy  wallet  naught  remains  but  Death, 
Know  that  thine  own,  and  take  it  for  thy  fee." 

IT  was  in  1877,  just  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  after  Nurjahan 
Padshah  Begum,  renouncing  Empire,  had  retired  to  the  solitudes 
of  the  rare  garden  down  by  the  banks  of  the  Ravi  river,  that  I 
first  saw  it. 

The  high  wall  which  had  "  shut  out  the  world,  shut  in  the 
flowers"  was  gone;  the  plane-trees  had  disappeared,  but  some 
few  of  the  cypresses,  ragged,  decaying,  uncared  for,  still  stood 
sentinel  over  what  once  had  been  beds  of  roses  and  jonquils. 
One  or  two  stunted  orange-bushes  remained  to  show  where 
vanished  groves  had  been,  and  in  one  far-off  corner  a  pomegranate 
was  ablaze  with  fiery  blossoms.  A  few  pigeons  still  circled 
round  the  great  tomb,  to  which  age,  by  time's  insensible  soften- 
ing, had  given  greater  iridescence  from  the  blendings  of  colour. 
The  tomb  itself  was  in  fair  condition.  It  had  been  thought  worth 
while  to  preserve  it  as  a  sight  for  globe-trotters.  Hard  by  it 
stood  the  tomb  of  Asof  Khan;  for,  possibly  by  some  strange 
belated  remorse,  that  worthy  yet  unworthy  gentleman  had 
directed  that  he  should  be  buried  beside  his  sister. 

Her  tomb  was  sadly  out  of  repair,  but  one  huge  white  jasmine 
flung  its  wide-arched  arms,  all  starred  with  scented  blossoms, 
over  the  crumbling  walls. 

My  man  was  engaged  in  taking  up  land  for  a  new  railway, 
which,  intersecting  the  garden,  was  to  pass  within  a  stone's 
throw  of  these  tombs,  and  already  long  files  of  coolies,*  men, 
women,  children,  were  leisurely  piling  up  the  big  embankment 
which  was  to  lead  to  the  iron  bridge  that  was  to  span  the  river. 

As  I  watched  the  slow  process  of  these  human  ants,  each 
contributing  but  a  few  spoonsful  of  earth  from  the  shallow 

366 


MISTRESS  OF  MEN  367 

baskets  they  carried  on  their  heads,  I  told  myself  that  so  were 
formed  the  great  dams  of  human  ignorance,  human  prejudice, 
each  one  in  turn  adding  his  or  her  finite  experience  by  following 
in  the  steps  of  someone  else. 

A  man  of  about  sixty  sat  out  in  the  open  on  a  cane-bottomed 
chair,  leisurely  chewing  betel  and  watching  the  orderly  process 
with  placid  satisfaction. 

Clothed  in  white,  stout,  oleaginous,  with  a  long  grey  beard 
and  an  immaculate  turban,  it  struck  me  at  once  that  he  might 
have  stood  model  for  Asof  Khan  in  those  old  days,  since  his 
face  showed  courteous,  intolerant,  intelligent,  yet  bigoted  to  a 
degree. 

That  he  was  an  official  was  evident  from  the  posse  of  underlings 
smoking  their  pipes  under  a  neighbouring  tree.  That  he  was  in 
Government  employ  was  clear  from  the  alacrity  with  which  he 
recognized  the  presence  of  one  higher  in  rank  than  himself, 
and  the  profuseness  of  his  salaams  for  the  "  Sahib."  The  "  Mem," 
however,  appeared  not  to  enter  into  his  calculations  at  all,  so 
the  following  remarks  must  be  considered  as  addressed  to  the 
sympathies  of  a  man. 

"  Of  a  truth,  Huzoor,  the  tomb  of  Jahangir  Padshah  is  a 
beautiful  structure,  but  it  was  not  built  by  a  woman.  She 
provided  the  money,  having  been  enriched  greatly  by  her  artifices. 
It  is  true  the  Emperor  gave  her  the  title  of  Nurjahan,  but  in 
reality  she  was  but  a  beautiful  Persian.  The  Huzoor  says  truly. 
Rumour  hath  it  that  she  was  very  beautiful,  as  it  becomes  a 
woman  to  be.  But  clever  ?  God  knows.  She  did  the  Emperor 
much  harm,  and  brought  his  grey  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave, 
by  reason  of  her  quarrel  with  his  virtuous  son  Shahjahan.  See 
you,  she  desired  to  rule  the  Empire  after  her  husband's  death, 
and  to  secure  that  end  stooped,  after  the  fashion  of  womenkind, 
to  much  artifice,  being  ambitious  and  without  shame." 

Here  I  broke  in.  "  But,"  I  said,  "  she  retired  from  public 
-ife  when  Jahangir  died;  she  lived  in  this  garden  in  her  widow's 
veil  for  nineteen  years;  she  gave  all  her  money  that  was  left 
after  building  his  tomb  to  the  poor.  That  does  not  look  like 
ambition.  Why  did  she  do  it,  if,  as  you  say,  she  wanted  to  be 
Empress  ?" 


368  MISTRESS  OF  MEN 

Asof  Khan  passed  my  remark  by  with  the  utmost  courtesy, 
and  once  more  appealed  to  male  sympathies. 

"  Being  a  woman,"  he  said  unctuously,  "  she  doubtless  had 
some  nefarious  purpose  in  coming  to  this  garden."  Then  he 
sighed  solemnly,  and  added : 

"  Aurat  sab  makr  wafareb."  (Women  are  all  deceit  and  guile.) 
***** 

Poor  Nurjahan  !  destined  to  be  judged  by  male  standards 
throughout  the  years.  Ere  I  left  the  garden  I  picked  some  of 
the  starry  jasmine  blooms  and  laid  them  on  her  grave. 

But  Jahangir's  remained  undecorated.  Though  I  judged 
him  the  most  Compleat  Lover  the  world  has  ever  produced, 
I  knew  that  his  reputation  could  take  care  of  itself. 


AMU    SONS,    LTD.,    FK4NTEK.S,    GUM.DFOKD,    £*f€LAND. 


A    000  129  140    o 


